All This Hell
by toomanyfandomssolittletime
Summary: After the USA entered WW2, Claire Rousseau, like many young women, joined the Army Nurse Corps to help save lives. When given the chance, Claire volunteers to join the 101st Airborne. Despite the Hell of war, Claire finds hope in the bonds of brotherhood among the soldiers of Easy Company, proof that there are some things worth fighting for.
1. Pure Grit

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. I do not wish to offend anyone with this story. I admire deeply the men from the real Easy Company and do not mean any disrespect. This story is purely for entertainment purposes and is based entirely on the actors portrayal from the TV show.**

* * *

 _Upottery, England, June 4_ _th_ _1944_

"Easy Company!" Lieutenant Meehan called them all to attention. Claire stood at attention with the rest of the Company. "Listen up. The Channel coast is socked in rain and fog, high winds on the drop-zone. No jump tonight. The invasion has been postponed. We're on a twenty-four hour stand-down."

"Son of a bitch," Bill Guarnere cursed under his breath.

"And here I got all gussied up for nothin'," Claire grumbled. "At least I get to take this stuff off… Only to put it back on tomorrow. Stuff weighs more than I do."

"At least you don't have to jump with all the extra ammo, grenades, and guns," Malarkey pointed out.

"Yes, but I am carrying my weight in medical supplies," she retorted. She looked around to see men unsure of what was happening. Platoon Sergeants trying to gather them up while they were still figuring out what to do. "Last time things got this disorganized, we were back at Camp Mackall with _him_."

"Christ, don't remind me of him," Guarnere grumbled.

They headed back to the barracks to change out of their jumpsuits and into their green and brown ODs. Claire caught sight of her reflection in the mirror, hardly recognizing herself now. Her once long black hair was cut short so she wouldn't have anything sticking out under her helmet. Her pale skin was smeared with the black charcoal powder. Claire washed it off to reveal her sharp, angular features. Her arms and legs, which had been long and thin were now built with muscle giving her a harder, leaner appearance. She couldn't even picture the small girl she'd once been.

It had been a very long two years.

* * *

 _New Orleans, Louisiana, February_ _22_ _nd_ _1942_

The news of Pearl Harbour being bombed struck a chord with everyone, particularly with Claire Rousseau. Her brother, James Rousseau, had been one of the casualties. For two months, she'd felt numb. Going through the motions each day. Now, she was going to do something.

Her parents had died long before. First, her mother died in childbirth in 1929, the baby, a little girl, lived for two hours before she died as well. Then her father was killed in a fire in 1939. By the time her father passed, Claire was eighteen years old. She had other biological family, but she hasn't spoken to them in years. She was alone now.

Claire was training to be a nurse in New Orleans. She trained to work in the emergency room. The chaos, the improvising, she excelled at it. Her program was finishing up in April. After finishing her night shift, Claire walked into the recruiter's' office and enlisted in the Army Nurses Corp. The recruitment age for nurses was twenty-one, and today happened to be her twenty first birthday. There was no one left to tell her that she couldn't, or shouldn't do it. Claire needed to do this. She owed it to her brother and to all of the other men who died on that base.

 _May 1942, Colorado_

Upon enlisting, Claire was sent to work at a Military Hospital in Colorado. She worked as a surgical nurse. She excelled in the O.R. She didn't talk to many of the other women and kept her head down. Claire was here for one purpose, to help save the lives of the men who were fighting. She couldn't be a soldier, but she could help save them.

She put in a request to be transferred to a field hospital. That was why she wasn't surprised when Major Rogers, the chief of surgery at the hospital, asked to see her. She assumed she was getting her reassignment papers.

Claire walked into his office and stood at attention. What she noticed was that he wasn't alone. There were three other men, one was wearing Colonel stripes, another the stripes of a Major, while the other was wearing that of a General. She saluted them all.

"At ease," Major Rogers told her. Claire shifted into the at ease position. "Nurse Rousseau, I'd like to introduce you to General Lee, Colonel Sink, and Major Horton of the 101st Airborne."

The Airborne? She'd read about Airborne training in _Life Magazine_ , it was gruelling and difficult. The paratroopers were the best the Army had to offer.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, sirs," she spoke.

"The pleasure's ours, Lieutenant Rousseau," General Lee stated. "I've heard that you've performed above and beyond since joining the Nurse Corps."

"Thank you, sir."

"And that you came in from a top ranking hospital and graduated top of your class," he kept going.

"Yes I did, sir, thank you."

"It also says here that you've requested transfer to a field hospital on the front line, may I ask why?" General Lee continued.

"I want to help in any way I can, sir, and I feel like I can make more of a difference there," she explained. "May I ask what this is about, sir?"

"Of course. The Airborne is a brand new concept in American Military History. And as such, we train only the best," General Lee explained.

"Sir?"

"The US Military has decided to select nurses to join the ranks and be trained to be on the frontline," he continued. "The idea is to see how women can handle the woes of battle and if it might help in keeping morale up among the men. The 506th Division of the 101st Airborne has been selected to participate."

Claire tried her best to hide her shock. Women were not usually on the frontline. The closest they would get would be field hospitals.

"Sir, I could join the paratroopers?" She questioned.

" _If_ you pass the training," he countered, "like everyone else, and earn your wings, then, yes, you will be a paratrooper."

The way he said it, Claire knew none of them expected her to pass training. This was a chore for them, but they were the best, and despite what they might think, Claire was the best. She could easily stay and work out of a field hospital, but that wasn't enough for her. Why were men the only ones who could fight? She wouldn't pick up a gun and shoot the enemy, but she would be under fire getting to the men. If it were James, he would've gone for it.

"If you succeed, you will of course be given a pay raise," General Lee continued. "Not the same as the other officers, of course, but…"

"May I say something sir?" She asked.

"Go on," He replied.

"Sir, I don't care about the money. When does training start?" Claire asked.

The men gave her a surprised look, as though they didn't expect her to accept.

"Nurse Rousseau, you are aware that this training is incredibly physical, and you will be the only woman on the base?" Major Rogers explained slowly. "The men will not treat you with respect, not like they would in a Field or Evac Hospital."

"Sir, I've always been told respect must be earned, not given," she told them. "If I have the option to work alongside the men who are giving their lives for this country, how can I not take it?"

* * *

 _June 1942 – Camp Toccoa, Georgia_

Anxiety tightened her stomach into knots as she got off the bus at the camp. She'd been the only one on the bus. Over the last two months, she prepared herself physically as best she could. Claire would run every day, and then she would do physical training. It was rigorous, but if she wanted to succeed, it was something she needed to do.

Claire climbed out and admired the camp. She could see row upon row of large tents used for housing soldiers. She stood with her canvas bag soaking it all in. There were men running through the obstacle course, shooting at the firing range. A few more were walking around dressed in green uniforms. Claire knew she had to report to Colonel Sink's office.

A group of men passed her and turned around to give her a sideways look.

"You lost, darlin'?" One of them asked. "Hair salon's back that way."

Claire suppressed the urge to roll her eyes.

"Actually, could you direct me to HQ?" She asked.

"Uh, yeah, sure, straight down then to the right," the man pointed. Claire smiled gratefully and walked down the path. She knew men were ogling her as she walked by. She ignored them and kept on her way.

Claire arrived at the office of Colonel Sink. She knocked on the door and was let in. She recognized Colonel Sink from her meeting with General Lee and Major Rogers. The other two she didn't know.

"Ah, Lieutenant Rousseau, I trust your trip was pleasant?" Sink said.

"Yes, sir, it was," she replied.

"Lieutenant Rousseau, this is Major Strayer, Second Battalion XO and Lieutenant Sobel," Colonel Sink introduced. "Lieutenant Sobel, this is Second Lieutenant Claire Rousseau. She will be joining Easy Company."

Lieutenant Sobel's eyes went hard. He was not pleased.

"Sir… she's a woman," he pointed out.

"Yes, Lieutenant we are aware," Major Strayer replied. "This comes directly from General Lee."

Major Strayer did not want her here either.

"She is to receive no special treatment, no coddling. She has been made aware that if she fails to meet _all_ requirements, she will be sent back to The Nurses Corp," Sink explained.

"Yes, sir," Sobel agreed.

"Now, show Lieutenant Rousseau to her quarters in the officer's barracks," Sink ordered. "As there is no room, Lieutenant, you will be staying with the men. A curtain will be installed soon for some privacy."

"Yes, sir."

"Dismissed."

Both Sobel and Claire saluted the Colonels before walking out of the office. Sobel stomped down the hall like a child who was having a tantrum. She kept up the pace, feeling the disdain radiating off of him. They arrived at the officer's barracks. There were six bunks, all but one occupied. She would be bunking with men. Claire knew she would not get her own quarters, nor would she have wanted them. She was thankful for the curtain, at least then she could have some semblance of privacy.

"You are to keep your area to army standards," Sobel said. "You are in my company now, which means you will follow _my_ orders. If it was up to me, you would trollop back to wherever you came from. However, until you wash out, which you will, you will not bring this company down. You will not fraternize or distract the men with your feminine wiles. This is the Army, not a matchmaking service for some woman to find her husband."

Claire swallowed the anger bubbling in her stomach.

"Sir, I am not here to find a husband. I am here to work, to perform my duty, same as you or any of the men here," she told him.

Sobel's nostrils flared. His chest was puffed up as though to establish dominance. "Lieutenant, change into your ODs. Be out and ready for inspection with the men. You have ten minutes."

Sobel walked out of the barracks. What a prick. She dropped her bag on her new cot. Claire opened it and grabbed her new uniform. She was stripping out of her dress uniform when she heard footsteps coming in. Claire turned around, standing in her white undershirt. There were two men standing in the entrance way. One of them had ginger hair, the other short black hair. They were both a few inches taller than her. They stared awkwardly at her, as though unsure of where to look. She quickly tried to cover herself up.

"Hi," she said awkwardly. She held out one hand for them to shake. The other tried to cover her indecent state of dress. "Lieutenant Claire Rousseau."

They both stared at her. The ginger man was the first to move. He grasped her hand with a big friendly smile. "Lieutenant Richard Winters."

The second man then shook her hand. "Lieutenant Lewis Nixon. If you don't mind my asking, what are you doing here?"

"Changing," she replied. "I'm the Combat nurse, I guess you could call it that, attached to Easy Company."

"Combat Nurse?" Lieutenant Nixon questioned. "Never heard of that."

"It's something new," she explained. "Now, if it makes you uncomfortable, I suggest you leave the room while I change."

Lieutenant Winters and Nixon backed out of the room. Claire smirked and continued to get changed. Claire tied her long dark locks into a tight bun, ensuring that not a single hair was out of place. Her nerves were shot over meeting the rest of the men. She knew what to expect, that they would not like having her there. They thought women were not meant to see combat. Claire was going to prove them wrong.

* * *

Though Claire knew she wouldn't carry a rifle into battle, she had to have one during training. She would have to pass the rifle portion of training. The men were already gathered, standing in formation when she arrived with Lieutenant Winters and Lieutenant Nixon. Almost like clockwork, Claire saw all eyes turn to her. Winters and Nixon went and stood in front of their platoons.

"That a broad?" One of them asked.

"The Hell she doin' here?"

Claire ignored them as she took a spot just on the left side of the first platoon. She heard someone smack the back of their neck. Claire looked over to see Lieutenant Nixon smacking away a mosquito. She was sweating like a pig in the uniform. The helmet barely fit with the hair tucked underneath. It sat uncomfortably on her head.

"You people are at the position of attention!" Lieutenant Sobel's voice boomed as he stomped over to conduct his inspection. Claire adjusted her position. Sobel blew right past her, ignoring her completely.

Claire listened as Sobel bullied members of the Company. Soldier after soldier got their weekend passes revoked. He even went so far as to taunt a soldier because his last name is slang for bullshit. The last one, belonging to a Joseph Liebgott was a rusted bayonet.

"Do you want to kill Germans?" Sobel asked him.

"Yes, sir," Liebgott responded.

"Not with this rusty piece of shit," Sobel chastised and handed him back the bayonet. He then turned tail and headed straight to her. He got right in her face. Claire raised her rifle for inspection. "Name."

He already knew her name, but she knew what he was doing. He was going to belittle her in front of the men.

"Rousseau, Claire B." She told him.

"Is that hair I see sticking out of your helmet, Rousseau?" He asked. Claire bit her tongue to keep the sarcastic remark down.

"No excuse, sir," was all she could say.

"Didn't I tell you not to be a distraction to the men?" Sobel asked.

"Yes, sir," she answered calmly.

"Then why are you standing in front of them? Do you want them looking at you?"

"No, sir. I'm standing where the other officers are standing, sir," she explained.

"Your weekend pass is revoked. Move to the back," he ordered. Claire held his hard stare.

"Yes, sir." Claire kept her head held high as she walked between First and Second Platoon to the very back of the company. She didn't look at any of the men as she walked by. It was humiliating enough to have to do it without seeing the loathing gazes from the men.

"Because of the infractions of these men and woman," Sobel started speaking once Claire stood behind the back line. "Anyone in the company who had a weekend pass has lost it. Change into your PT gear. We're running up Currahee."

Claire looked up at the large daunting mountain. She had to run up _that_?

"Move out," she heard Lieutenant Winters say.

Claire went back to her barracks, Winters and Nixon were there too as they quickly changed into their PT. The curtain had yet to be installed so she had them turn around as she changed.

"So, you met Sobel, you sure you want to keep at it?" Nixon asked. He hadn't meant it to sound as sincere as it came out.

"I don't scare easy, Lieutenant Nixon," she assured while she laced up her new boots. "Only way I'm leavin's if they drag me out kicking and screaming or they kill me. He can say whatever he wants, everyone can, but I'm not goin' anywhere."

She swore she saw the corner of Lieutenant Nixon's mouth twitch to a smile. Claire turned away as she stripped out of her combat gear and into the shorts and t-shirt. The shorts were shorter than what she was used to. So much for modesty. Claire walked out of the barracks and joined the rest of the men in PT formation.

She hadn't had the chance to learn what it was, so she asked Lieutenant Winters and he gave her a quick explanation. She could hear the catcalls coming from the other soldiers that were leaving the base.

"Christ, I thought Johnny was lying," one of them said.

"Hey, no wonder Easy don't need a weekend pass. How's it goin' dollface?"

Claire ignored the calls. Being a woman meant getting men yelling obscene things at them. She'd grown tolerant of it. Being a woman meant she had to. In the formation, Sobel made it his mission to ensure that Claire was right at the back. She ran alongside three men, who kept looking her way. She paid them no mind.

The run was grueling, but not impossible. She kept up with the steady pace, much to the surprise and in some cases anger of the men. She'd been running four miles almost every day for the past two months in preparation for this training. Claire had always been athletic. She supposed that's what happened when a girl spends the majority of her life with just her brother and father. They would play sports, and she would chase her brother through the woods.

"You look tired, Rousseau!" Sobel barked at her. "You don't belong here. You will _never_ earn your wings."

Claire's nostrils flared but she kept quiet. She didn't break that easy. There were a few ankles on the way up that seemed to try and trip her. They were going to have to do better than that.

At some point along the trek up, Claire heard someone cried out in pain. Her first instinct was to break formation and help the man but the moment she started advancing, Sobel noticed and yelled at her to stay in the back.

"Do not help that man!" Sobel ordered. Claire looked and spotted the limping man. She couldn't see his face, unfortunately. "Do not help him! You do not stop! Hi-yo Silver!"

It was one thing to belittle and humiliate her, but to keep her from doing her job was an entirely different matter. The man disgusted her. If he wanted her gone, Claire was going to do everything she could to stay.

At the last mile uphill, formation broke and there was a sprint to the top. By this point, Claire was winded, but out of sheer bitterness towards Sobel, she pushed herself and weaved through a large group of men. She ran up to the top and touched the marble statue, Sobel's glare boring into her back.

"C'mon Rousseau, keep moving!" Winters encouraged as Claire pushed herself to run all the way back down.

* * *

After the long run up and down Currahee, the men from Easy returned to their barracks.

"A broad in the Airborne, you believe that?" Perconte questioned.

"Don't matter, she ain't gonna last," Guarnere stated. "Look at how many guys washed out already."

"Ain't no way she'll make it," Toye agreed. "Pretty girl like that don't belong on the front."

"I hate to agree with Sobel on anything, but he might be right about this," Martin spoke up.

"Women can't handle the frontline, too sensitive."

"She's an officer. Gotta be a reason for that," Malarkey defended.

"Yeah, cause the Army don't make mistakes," Talbert countered. "'Sides, she's a nurse, they're all ranking."

"I give her a week," Guarnere spoke. "Two tops. Then she's outta here."

"Christ, wait 'til she's gotta do the march, she'll be packin' by the first mile," Luz added.

Eugene Roe remained quiet as they tore into their new Lieutenant. They made a pool based on how fast she would drop out. Luz asked if Gene wanted in, he declined. He was conflicted, deep down he believed that women didn't belong on the frontline. He thought they should stay behind where it was safe, only serving in hospitals. Then again, he thought about his own medic training. The aim of his position was to stabilize the men so they could make it alive to the aid station and then the field hospital. Lieutenant Rousseau was a nurse, she had knowledge that was beyond him. If it meant more men lived, then maybe he'd be okay with it.

* * *

After the run up Currahee, Claire sought out the man who got hurt. She knew she would not be able to think about anything else until she had a look at his ankle. She noticed one guy heavily limping towards the barracks. Claire ran up to him.

"You mind if I take a look at that?" Claire asked. The man was around her height, if not a quarter of an inch shorter than her, with his brown hair in an army regulation haircut and friendly brown eyes. "Your ankle, I mean. It was you that hurt it on the run, right?"

"Uh, yeah," the soldier replied.

"I was tryin' to get to you on the run but…" she drifted off. "How's it feeling?"

"Um… it's fine I guess," he said.

"Alright, let me just make sure. Coulda made it worst runnin' on it like that," she explained. They limped over to the side of the barracks where there was a bench. Claire sat the man down and dropped to her knees. "What's your name?"

"Private Warren Muck, ma'am," he introduced himself. "But most people call me Skip." She liked that he acknowledged her rank.

"Nice to meet you, Muck," she said. She didn't call him by his nickname, mostly because she wanted to keep that distance between them. The only way to get men to listen was to have some sort of rank above them or to have their respect. Claire looked at his ankle. She lifted his leg off the ground. "Does it hurt to move it?"

"Not so much anymore," he told her. He flinched a little as she rotated it around. It wasn't swollen.

Claire could hear some of the men talking in the barracks. Based on the snippets of conversation she heard, she knew they were talking about her.

"How far d'you think she had to spread her legs to get here?" One of them asked.

"Musta been great if she got in the Airborne."

"Hey, do you guys think the covers match the drapes?" She overheard them go into explicit detail about how she'd gotten here. She would've laughed if she hadn't been so damn angry. Muck was giving her a pitying look, something that Claire really didn't need.

"It's just a minor sprain," she told him, avoiding his gaze. "Should be fine by tomorrow, just keep off of it tonight and elevated. Stick your pillow underneath. Don't wanna put a strain on the muscle and make it worst. If it still hurts in the mornin' come talk to me, alright?"

"Yes, ma'am," Muck agreed. Claire gave a small nod and walked back towards her own barracks.

Based on what she overheard in there, it was going to take a lot of convincing for these men to start respecting her, if she ever could.

Claire made it back to her barracks. The second she walked in, Winters and Nixon immediately stopped talking and gave her an awkward look.

"It's alright, if you're gonna talk about me, don't let me stop you," she told them. She was angry and annoyed that they were behaving like children all because she had breasts. "No one else seems to stop. Let me start it off, no I didn't sleep my way through the ranks. They offered me the choice to go to the frontline and I took it. I coulda gone an' worked at an field or evac hospital, but I _chose_ this. I'm here for _one_ thing, and _one_ thing alone, to do my job, same as all of you."

There was a silence between the three of them.

"Where're you from?" Nixon asked. Claire calmed down.

"Louisiana," she answered.

"I figured as much. Accent gives it away," he told her. A small smile was on his lips. He then pointed to himself. "New York."

Claire glanced over at Winters. "Pennsylvania."

There was nothing after that. No more talk. But somehow Claire got the feeling that she might not be entirely alone.

* * *

Claire's feelings of accomplishment died as soon as they'd appeared. The men would glare and make comments when she would walk by. They ostracized her, bullied her. During training exercises, Claire would often end up on the ground almost as fast as she would get back up. They would trip her, block her way, and did everything in their power to try and make her fail. This continued as Claire kept going. Every day she was there, it was an annoyance to the men, particularly Sobel. However, if there was one thing Claire Rousseau was very good at, it was getting back up.

"Get up Rousseau!" He would yell every time she fell. She hated him. "Are you gonna cry? You are _pathetic_!"

But she took it. She took it because Claire knew she belonged here. The men could hate her all they wanted, she was not going to quit. Sobel could demean her, bully her, but he would not be rid of her. He never acknowledged her rank, instead treating her even worst than the other enlisted men. But that didn't bother her as much. She wasn't looking for Sobel's approval, or his respect, especially since she had none for him. Colonel Sink would call her to his office every few days to ask if she still wanted this. Every time it was the same answer: _"Sir, I will see this through. This is where I'm meant to be."_

She had trouble keeping up with the men physically, as she knew she would. After training was done for the day, Claire would go back out and run through the obstacle course again and again. She practiced on the wall especially since that was her main source of trouble. Her fingernails had almost all been ripped off. She managed to get it after practically propelling herself over. She was sure her blood stained the wall. She would do push-ups, pull-ups, and pretty much anything that would build up her upper-body strength. It was easy to fall into a routine since every day was the same thing.

About three weeks into her training, Claire was still unfriendly with the men. Winters and Nixon were the only ones she talked to, but even then, it wasn't much more than polite conversation. Muck would smile at her, wave when no one was looking, they exchanged hellos, but never anything else.

Claire was given instructions on what her job was. Essentially, she was a field medic. But given her officer status, she'd be given a bigger, better kit, and also have the power to take over the aid station. During her required medical training, Claire met Eugene Roe. He was a medic for Easy and they would be working together. They were both from Louisiana, a fact that seemed to bond them. They grew up not far from each other. He proved to be very capable at doing his job. Claire was happy to be working with him. Roe, however, kept his distance. Since most of the men were not talking to her, Claire knew Roe wouldn't either. Outside of medic training, they wouldn't talk.

Her muscles were already starting to bulk up. They followed the same routine every day, wake up, eat, inspection, training, rifle practice, lectures, jumping exercises, run, dinner, obstacle course, tactical training. During lectures, Claire sat in the back, though she was never looked over, instructors purposely called on her as though to make sure she was listening. They would ask her questions any idiot would know, almost like they didn't know that she'd actually gone to college. She took many notes and would go over them in what little spare time she had.

It was lonely being on the outside. Claire had always been on the outside of things, but this was different. She'd never been so actively hated before. When Claire was alone, on more than one occasion, she cried.

One day, while she was walking back to barracks, when someone came behind her and roughly bumped into her shoulder. Claire stumbled forward and fell to the ground. She could hear laughter coming from next to her. Claire looked up to see Cobb, Liebgott, and Gordon walking away.

"Are you fuckin' kidding me?" She said angrily to herself.

"You should watch where you walk, Lieutenant," Cobb replied. The other two laughed.

She was so angry; she couldn't even speak. Claire's hands tightened into fists, her nails digging into her palms.

"Yeah, roads can be mighty bumpy around here," Liebgott continued while looking down on her. "Never know what can happen."

"I'll remember that," Claire said through gritted teeth. Claire pushed up off the ground and dusted herself off. "Excuse me."

As she walked away, Claire could still hear them talking.

"The fuck's she still doin' here? Don't she get that we don't want her?"

Claire's feelings of anger turned into those of annoyance. How the Hell could she do her job when they didn't even want her here?

 _The fuck's she still doin' here?_ Honestly, at that moment, she didn't have a clue.

It was her lowest point in training. She'd come here because she wanted to help the men on the line, because she didn't want to sit around while people died. Claire understood what the army was doing. They wanted her and the other selected nurses to flame out. They wanted to prove that women couldn't handle it. Claire was going to prove it wrong, but she wasn't sure she could. With the odds so stacked against her, she didn't know if she could keep doing this.

She knew what James would do it if he was here. He'd tell her to grow up, stop moping and see it through. She thought being here might make it easier to get over what happened, but if anything, it made her miss her brother more. She felt lonelier than ever. She thought about the word 'Currahee'. It meant 'We stand alone' and never had Claire more believed that to be true. She felt like no one was on her side here.

As Claire kept on her way, she hadn't realized that there was a stray tear sliding down her cheek. She kept her head down until she nearly crashed into someone. Claire looked up to see it was Eugene Roe.

"Sorry," she quickly apologized and was starting to walk around him.

"Lieutenant Rousseau, are you alright?" He asked.

"Yes, I'm fine," she replied, wiping the tear from her eye. "You okay?"

"Yeah… Actually, I was wonderin' if you could help me with somethin', ma'am," he answered.

"What is it?" Claire asked.

"I, uh, I… findin' the vein for the plasma… I ain't so good with that," he admitted. Their instructor wasn't the best at explaining that sort of thing. He would explain vaguely how to do it, stating that they'll get it with practice.

"Okay, I can show how to do that," Claire replied. "It's real simple once you get it. Can I see your arm?"

Gene held it out for her.

"You're gonna wanna insert the needle right about here," she pointed to the inside of his elbow. "To find the vein, the easiest way is to tie up above about here," she pointed to above the elbow, "but you might not have anything to tie it off. That case, take two fingers and tap it til the vein appears. When you see the vein, pinch the skin, insert the needle and then tape it down. That clear it up?"

"Yeah, thanks," he replied.

"Alright, good," she stated.

"You're good at that," he told her.

"Well, I did go to school to be a nurse, I'd sure hope I'm good at it. Otherwise, that'd be a waste of money," she responded light heartedly.

"Ma'am… can I ask somethin'?" He asked.

"'Nother medical question?" She asked.

"No… Ma'am, you could be working somewhere far off the line, safe, why'd you decide to come here?" Roe asked. The most common question she got.

Claire shrugged. "Why did you, Roe?"

"Honestly… because they paid more," he answered.

"I joined because it was my duty," she told him. "I came here because they offered it to me and I just want to do my job the best way I can, and this, bein' here's the best way I can."

At this point, Claire was just trying to prove, not only to the men but to herself, that she wouldn't wash out.

 _The fuck's she still doin' here?_

 _To do my job._

* * *

During a particularly grueling hand-to-hand exercise, Claire was paired up with George Luz. He was roughly around her size. At first, she was doing fine. She did exactly as instructed though she was a bit awkward in her movements. Claire used to get in fights with the neighbourhood boys. Most of the time, she was the instigator.

Claire went to throw a fake punch at Luz, like she was supposed to and Luz was supposed to grab her by the arm and put her to the ground. Luz did just that. He grabbed her by the arm and flipped her. Claire landed hard on her back, a sharp pain shot up through her back and the wind knocked out of her lungs. She gasped trying to catch her breath.

"Fuck," she cursed quietly. Since joining the army, Claire had begun swearing much more. The pain that shot through her body isolated itself to her right shoulder.

"On your feet Rousseau!" Sobel barked.

Claire swallowed a painful groan as she slowly started to get up. She could do this.

 _Nous sommes solides._

Her shoulder throbbed, though she didn't think it was broken.

"Do it again," Sobel ordered. He was standing to her left, watching her pick herself up. Claire got down into position and gave Luz a nod.

And they did it again, Luz knocked her on her ass once more. She slowly got up to her feet.

"Again."

"Jesus Christ, stay down," Luz pleaded. Claire ignored him as she got up to her feet.

 _Nous sommes solides._

She nodded at Luz once more, and they restarted the manoeuvre. She went for the dig and Luz knocked her down. With every fall, she could feel pain shoot through her, but she swallowed it and pushed it away. Every time she got up, Sobel ordered for them to do it again. It got to a point where the others stopped practicing and simply watched.

 _Nous sommes solides._

"Again," Sobel repeated.

"Sir…" Winters started but Sobel interrupted him.

"If you want to stop, Rousseau, there's a bus waiting to take you away."

Claire's nostrils flared.

"No, sir," she responded. She had something to prove. "Luz, again."

She went into position. Luz, reluctantly it seemed, did the same. Claire's head swirled, she was dizzy. She probably looked like a breeze could blow her over, and honestly she felt that way too, but she wasn't about to give up.

Claire went for the dig once more and Luz knocked her down. She fell down, the air being sucked out of her lungs. Every part of her body hurt. Claire went to get up, only to fall down again.

"That's enough," Sobel finally said. He looked down at her. "Pathetic. You're dismissed."

It was dinner time.

Sobel left her on the ground. Claire went to pull herself up off ground when a hand was out in front of her. Claire looked up to see Luz lending it out to her. She took it and he pulled her up.

"Thank you," she told him.

"You shoulda stayed down," he replied.

"None of you woulda," she countered. Luz didn't respond, he simply walked away.

Claire felt like a giant bruise. She went to the officers' mess hall. Claire went to sit alone, just as she always did, when Winters and Nixon came and sat next to her.

"You look like shit," Nixon brazenly told her. That was one thing she liked about Nixon, he didn't censor himself in the name of modesty.

"Thanks," she replied sarcastically.

"You okay?" Winters asked.

"Considering I got my ass handed to me a dozen times, I'd say I've been better," she told them. They both were caught off guard by her swearing but they quickly recovered. "Good thing, nothing's broken, just bruised." The two men looked at her as though she was insane, maybe she was.

"The men seemed impressed," Winters told her.

"Lieutenant Winters, to be honest, I don't care if I impress them," she explained. "Gettin' thrown to the ground won't all of a sudden make them respect me. I haven't earned it yet."

"It's Dick," Winters said.

"What?" Claire questioned.

"We're the same rank, Lieutenant Rousseau, call me by first my name," he answered. It was the first time anyone really acknowledged that she was an officer.

"Okay, Dick," she replied. "Call me Claire." Looking at both Nixon… Lewis and Dick, Claire thought that maybe she was beginning to make some progress.

* * *

"You see that?" Skip asked the men at the table. He was saying it cockily. Skip and Doc Roe were the only two who didn't put money in the pool. "She just kept getting back up."

"She's tough, I'll give her that," Bull spoke up.

"Just 'cause she gets her ass handed to her don't change the fact that she'll probably wash out," Toye countered.

"Christ, at this rate, only way she's gettin' outta here's in a fucking ambulance," Malarkey added.

The way he saw her get up, then get knocked down, then get back up again, he wasn't sure whether he should be impressed or pissed at her stubborn ass. Another part of him wondered if Doc and Skip were right and he should try to get his money back from Luz.

* * *

Claire's entire left side was bruised by the look of it. She pushed through the pain as Easy Company went on their Friday night march. Normally, Claire stood at the back of the company, but tonight it was different. She marched on the outside between first and second platoon. One of Sobel's orders in regards to the march was not to take a drink out of their canteens. It was a test of resistance for them.

On the other marches, she was fine, today, however, it took much of her willpower to stop herself. It was well into the night when they were about halfway through the march. She kept an eye on the men, just in case any of them collapsed or got hurt in any way.

"Lieutenant Winters," Bull Randleman spoke up.

"What is it?" Dick asked.

"Permission to speak, sir," he requested.

"Permission granted."

"Sir, we got nine companies, sir," Bull Randleman said.

"Yes we do."

"So, why are we the only company marching every Friday night, twelve miles, full packed uniform, in the pitch dark?" He asked.

"Why d'you think, Private Randleman?" Dick asked.

"Lieutenant Sobel hates us, sir," Bull answered. The corners of Claire's mouth twitched slightly.

"Lieutenant Sobel doesn't hate Easy Company, he just hates you," Dick joked.

"Thank you, sir," Bull said it with a big shit eating grin on his face. It was rare to hear Dick make jokes.

"He hates him back," someone, it sounded like Muck, said.

"He hates you too, Muck," Luz retorted.

"Pretty sure he hates Lieutenant Rousseau the most," Muck joked. Claire smirked. Muck was one of the only enlisted men who didn't treat her like a fly buzzing around them, that was just because she helped him out that day he twisted his ankle. The other was Eugene Roe. She always looked forward to medic training. She got along with him well and she thought they made a good team.

"Nah, pretty sure it's still you," she replied.

When they got back to camp, Sobel was standing all high and mighty as he asked the men to up end their canteens. Claire was still at the back, behind the final line, trying not to give Sobel any reason to punish her or the men. She hadn't taken a single sip on the march, the entire contents were poured onto the ground. However, one soldier, Christenson, had broken and taken a drink. His canteen dried up rather quickly.

"What is this?! Christenson! Why is your canteen empty? You drank from your canteen, didn't you?!" Sobel raged.

"Sir, I-" He began to defend himself. His expression was tired and pale.

"Lieutenant Winters, was this man ordered not to drink from his canteen?" Sobel asked.

"Yes, sir," Dick responded.

"Private Christenson, you disobeyed a direct order from your CO. You will fill your canteen and repeat all twelve miles of the march!" Sobel ordered. Claire couldn't take watching it anymore.

"Sir, it was under my orders, sir," she spoke up surprising even herself. Heads turned to look at her. Sobel's gaze broke away from Christenson and glared at her. "I noticed Private Christenson was looking dehydrated, I ordered him to drink water. I did not want him to hurt himself and make the CO look bad, sir."

Sobel sneered. "Congratulations, Christenson, you've been spared from doing the march again alone. Lieutenant Rousseau will accompany you. You will both refill your canteens and march. If they are not still full when you get back, I will make you repeat it."

"Yes, sir," she and Christenson said simultaneously.

"Fall out!" Sobel ordered. Christenson and Claire walked away from the group. They filled their canteens and started on the march again.

Neither of them spoke for the first five miles of the march. Claire was trying to concentrate on continuously moving forward. _Keep moving. Don't think about food, or your bed, or water._ Claire kept listing off the different systems in the body to distract herself. She would start by naming the system, then it's function, and then naming all the parts in it. The silence was tense between them.

 _The circulatory system. Function: to circulate blood around the body. The circulatory system revolves entirely around the heart. The heart pumps the blood through the atria into the ventricles. The ventricles pump the oxygenated blood into the aorta (the main artery) into the smaller arteries. Then the veins…_

"Why are you still here?" He questioned cutting her off mid circulatory system.

"What?"

"Why are you still here?" He repeated.

"Because I want to be. Because I can. Why should men be the only ones allowed to serve their country?" She retorted. "Women see more blood than men ever will."

"It's not just about the blood. It's about being strong enough to take the fighting," Christenson countered.

"How many men have washed out?" Claire asked. "A dozen? Two? But me? I'm still here. I put up with men lookin' at my ass, thinkin' I'm weak, the rumours about how far I spread my legs to get here, Lieutenant Sobel treating me like I'm a pile of shit he stepped in…"

"Why?" He questioned.

"I can take it," she answered bluntly. "I'm a lot stronger than I look. Are we done with the questions?"

"One more: why'd you try to take the blame?" Christenson asked.

Claire thought about it for a minute. "I'm an officer, part of me hoped Sobel would've respected that."

"But the only thing you did was dig yourself in deeper. You don't have to prove anything."

Claire let out a disbelieving laugh.

"Are you kidding me? Haven't you been listening? _Of course_ I need to prove myself. I've been proving myself since I got here. I'm not looking to be liked. I'm not looking to be your friend. But, I'm not going anywhere. I'm not giving up. Might be better for everyone if we just suck it up, because there might come a time where _I'm_ the one who saves your life."

"Yes ma'am," Christenson replied. By the way he looked at her, Claire could see something that hadn't been there before, the smallest hint of respect.

Good, she told herself. It's the small victories that count.

It was nearly dawn by the time Christenson and Claire made it back to camp. Sobel was waiting and both of them dumped their full canteens on the ground. Sobel then dismissed them and sent them to bed. Claire hadn't even bothered to change or draw the curtain shut as she collapsed on her bunk.

* * *

 **I've been working on this story for over six months now. It has been a long, difficult process that involved quite a bit of research. My goal is to create a good story that is still mostly realistic. I know I will not get everything exactly right, so if you notice a factual error, please point it out. I do hope you enjoy this story. Please let me know what you think.**


	2. We Stand Alone, Together

The next day, Claire's muscles throbbed. She rolled out of her bed when Dick woke her up. She could barely move. Thank the Lord it was the weekend and she had a full two days off to recover. Claire groaned and shut the curtain and shrugged off her clothes from the previous night and put on her fatigues. She walked to the officer's mess hall and grabbed her tray of food. Dick was telling them how Sobel ordered him to pick six men, find infractions and then punish them.

"So, what d'you do?" Lew asked. He didn't like when Claire called him Lewis, instead he told her to call him Lew or Nix instead.

"Picked six men and gave them latrine duty," Dick answered.

"Who were the lucky six?" Claire asked. They went to sit down, Claire did so slowly, her legs throbbing.

"MacDonald, Lipton, Guarnere, Toye, Perconte, and Muck," he listed.

"Why them?" Lew asked.

"It was their turn."

"Sobel's a genius," Lew noted. "I had a headmaster just like him in prep school. I know the type."

"Lew, Michelangelo's a genius, Beethoven…" Dick countered.

"Is there anyone in this Company who wouldn't run up and down Currahee in full gear just to piss in that man's coffee?" Lew asked.

"He's got a point," Claire agreed. "It's fun makin' that vein pop out of his forehead when he gets _really_ mad."

"How'd the march go last night?" Dick asked her.

"Didn't have to repeat it, I guess that's somethin'," she answered.

"Why did you do that again?" Lew asked. Claire sighed.

"I made the mistake of hoping that Sobel would acknowledge my rank. Stupid on my part," she admitted.

"Yep," Lew agreed. "But, as stupid as it might've been, you sticking your neck out for Christenson is pretty much all the men have been talking about."

Claire said nothing as she ate her breakfast.

* * *

"Girl's got guile," Guarnere complimented as they discussed Lieutenant Rousseau's actions from the night before.

"I'm not sayin' she don't, but nerve ain't enough," Toye countered. "It comes down to this, in the heat of battle, who you gonna want to save your ass? Some woman who probably'll faint at the first sign of blood? I don't think so."

Eugene, who was normally quiet and passive, started laughing. What he didn't realize was Christenson did too.

"The fuck's so funny?" Toye asked.

"Y'all do realize she's a nurse, right?" Gene retorted. He liked Lieutenant Rousseau, from what he saw, she was plenty competent. He'd trust her to go to combat more than he would most people. "She worked at a hospital before joinin'. That girl's seen blood."

Gene remembered Lieutenant Rousseau briefly mentioning that she worked at a hospital before the war.

"Women see more blood than men ever will," Christenson mumbled, he was sitting close enough to Gene that only he heard it. That certainly sounded like something Lieutenant Rousseau would've said, not Christenson.

"She took a beating yesterday, still did all the PT we normally do, ran, did two marches, and she's still going," Malarkey spoke up.

"She probably took the blame because she thought it would make us all like her," Sisk spoke up.

"Even if she did," Christenson spoke up, "when the shit starts flying, I, for one, think it might not be so bad to have Lieutenant Rousseau there. She's got our backs, which is more than any of us can say about Black Swan."

"I hate to say it, but I think we were wrong about this one, fellas," Luz agreed. Lieutenant Rousseau had made it this far without washing out, Eugene knew he'd been wrong to judge her at the beginning. He'd never met a harder headed woman. If any woman could make it, Gene believed it would be Lieutenant Rousseau.

* * *

Over the next few days, Claire noticed a drastic change in the men. They no longer tried to sabotage her success, Hell, Bull even helped her on the wall in the obstacle course, something she always struggled to get over. While they were practicing hand-to-hand once again, Guarnere helped her get in the right position, since he noticed she wasn't distributing the weight properly. She thought maybe they'd grown bored of trying to get her to wash out and now tolerated her presence. That is, until the strangest thing happened, one day after they were done, Luz, Malarkey, and Guarnere actually told her she did a good job.

One day, when they were on the rifle range. Claire wasn't a great shot, not in the slightest, she was barely scraping by. She was in the standing position. She held the M1 rifle and carefully aimed at the target. Two clicks to the right and pull the trigger. Her shot went wide.

"Dammit," she cursed under her breath.

"Try to the left instead." She looked over to see it was Shifty Powers talking to her. He was an excellent shot.

Claire did as instructed and pulled the trigger. It hit the very edge of the target.

"Try this…"

Shifty corrected her position and how she held the rifle. She pulled the trigger and hit the painted target towards the bottom right, but still closer than she'd gotten.

"Not bad," he complimented.

"Thank you," she told him.

She wasn't sure where this change was coming from, but for the first time since coming to Toccoa she didn't feel like they were against her.

"Why are they being so nice to me?" Claire asked Roe one day on their way back from medic training.

"When you took the blame for Christenson, you showed you had their backs, ma'am," Roe answered. "They respect that. And I think when it gets down to it, it's best not to piss off the people who're gonna be savin' their lives if they get wounded."

"Huh, guess they got a point," Claire agreed. She flinched slightly in her movements.

"How're the bruises healing?" Roe asked.

"I'm fine Roe," she assured. "Just a little sore."

In fact, she was doing much better.

The shift in behaviour towards her made Claire's life easier, but it didn't stop her from working non-stop. That day, the under crawl part of the obstacle course was covered in pig guts. Live ammunition was being fired overhead. Her heart was pounding.

She could see when they got to that point that the men were giving her side glances, testing to see if the gore would be the thing that broke her. Claire merely smirked as she got down and dirty. A little blood and guts was nothing. She's known how to gut fish since she could walk. She crawled out of the section covered from head to toe in blood. She made it to the wall where she hoisted herself up halfway, her nails digging into the wood like she'd practiced. And then Lipton reached down and pulled her up.

"Thanks," she told him. Lipton simply gave her a curt nod.

After very carefully navigating the showers as she normally did, the Army could barely provide adequate living quarters, there was no way they were going to have a shower only for her, especially since no one thought she'd make it this far. Claire released her long hair from the tight bun. Her hair was a shade darker from the blood that had gotten in. She scrubbed the blood out of her hair, that is until she got fed up. Her hair was one of the only symbols of her old femininity remaining. It was an easy enough choice to make. She knew Liebgott had been a barber before the war.

"Liebgott," she called to him after she left the showers dressed in her jumpsuit. The tall, slender man turned towards her. "Come here for a minute."

He came running over. "Yes, ma'am," he said.

"I need a favour," she told him. "I need you to cut my hair."

He gave her an odd look. "Me? Don't you want to go to some hair salon, ma'am?"

"If I did, I would go. If you don't want to, I'll probably just do it myself," she shrugged.

"Nah, I'll do it."

Claire's dark locks hit the floor. Liebgott agreed to cut her hair. It was about time she did it. She kept her eyes closed, unsure of whether she wanted to look. Claire never thought she was an incredibly pretty girl, but she always loved her hair. Her head felt lighter as the hair was cut. Finally, she gathered the courage to look. Her once long, thick hair was now styled in a short, practical, cut. The haircut gave her sharper, more angular features. She looked older, less like the girl she'd been a month ago. She looked stronger.

"Thank you, Liebgott," she told him.

Claire went back to her barracks where Lew and Dick were sitting talking. At first they didn't notice her, but then Lew did a double take.

"What the Hell did you do?" He asked.

"Cut my hair," she shrugged.

"Yeah, I see that," Lew retorted. "I think the question is… why?"

"'Cause I wanted to, and this way Sobel can't say anythin' about my hair stickin' out," she told him. "Got anythin' else to say?"

"Nope," Lew answered. "I like it."

"It suits you," Winters noted.

"Thank you," she told him running her fingers through her short hair. "I like it too."

* * *

As the weeks went by, Easy Company went through the vigorous training. Men washed out and were sent back to be placed in a different division. But not her. Claire was getting better, faster, and stronger. She was gaining the strength to lift men, who were much taller and bigger, and drag them. She did forty push-ups –though the required number was twenty-five, and kept up with the men in chin ups. She kept up with the men in hand-to-hand, she could take them down. Her once slender, feminine figure was now hardened muscle.

A few weeks into October, Claire received a letter from a Lieutenant Eleanor Thomson. She wrote how she was one of the nurses chosen to be on the frontline, just like she was. Lieutenant Thomson was with the Marines, she'd made it through her basic training and at the time the letter was written, she was on her way to the front. The letter was dated from a few months ago. Claire figured she'd written it on the boat. She got Claire's information from a friend that Claire had worked with in Colorado. Lieutenant Thomson finished off her letter by saying:

' _Who would've thought? Women heading off with men to fight the war. What a time we live in. When I joined, I have to say that I never expected this. I'm not sure what the future will bring, but at least I know that I'm doing the right thing._

 _I do hope that you make it. I hope your unit treats you well. I know how lonely it can be in our position. Please know that you've always got a friend in the marines._

 _All the best,_

 _Lieutenant Eleanor Thomson'_

Lieutenant Thomson had made it, and if she could do it, so could Claire. Despite Sobel's attempts. She was proud to be a woman in the Army. She could and would get her wings. Claire wrote back to Lieutenant Thomson, wishing her the best of luck in the war and how glad she was that she'd reached out. Claire was curious about the others that were chosen, if any of them had made it.

Lieutenant Sobel was promoted to Captain. He celebrated this by having a surprise inspection. Claire was forced to have to stand there with the other officers and watch as he tore through the enlisted men's barracks. Private Parks was being transferred out for stealing a can of peaches. All weekend passes, including those of the officers, were cancelled. That didn't bother Claire much, since she never left the base anyway. Dick was promoted to First Lieutenant. Now he would serve as company executive officer.

Sobel's next move in his reign of tyranny was to pack the men full of spaghetti, and then making them all run up Currahee. They were supposed to have a relaxed afternoon of lectures, but of course, the plans changed. As Claire ran next to First Platoon, she could hear Sobel belittling the men.

"You're a wash-out Private Hoobler! You should pack up your ears and go home!" Sobel yelled.

There was a thick smell of vomit in the air. Claire's stomach felt heavy with the food. The officers didn't have spaghetti so it wasn't nearly as bad, but running on a full and heavy stomach still made her feel nauseous. Based on the smell and the sight of regurgitated spaghetti made her vow never to eat it again.

"Looks like Gordon's done, aren't you?! You finished? You don't deserve to get your wings!" He kept moving up the Company.

"Private Randleman, you look tired. There's an ambulance waiting for you at the bottom. It could all be over, no more pain, no more Currahee, no more Captain Sobel!" Just as she'd expected, Sobel's steps drifted over to her.

"Are you finished yet, Rousseau? Are you finally going to give up? Go home, find a nice 4-F and be the good little housewife you're supposed to be!" Sobel barked at her. "You're nothing, Rousseau! You will never make..."

Claire's nostrils flared. She was so sick of him.

"We pull upon the rises…" Luz cut him off by starting to sing.

"…we pull upon the grass," the rest of the men, including Claire, joined in. "We never land upon our feet, we always hit our ass. High-Dee. High-Dee. Christ almighty, who the hell are we? Zim Zam Goddamn, we're Airborne infantry!"

* * *

 _December 7_ _th_ _1942_

Despite it being the anniversary of Pearl Harbour, training continued. It ended early that day. Even then, there was a grim presence over the entire base. All day, Claire was even more reclusive than usual. She didn't say a word at breakfast. She was grateful to run the obstacle course that day, go to the shooting range, even running up Currahee. It helped distract her from the heaviness that weighed in her chest.

It had been a year now since her brother was killed. After training was done for the day, Claire sat on her bunk, fully aware that Dick and Lew were looking at her through her curtain. She knew that her brother's death was in her file. She knew they probably would've seen it. She knew they knew and she was grateful they didn't say anything.

They told her they were going to dinner, but Claire wasn't hungry. Instead, she remained seated. When she was finally alone, Claire reached under her pillow and pulled out the picture and the necklace. The picture was that of her brother, her father, and Claire standing on their old fishing boat. She loved that boat. Whenever Claire wasn't at school, she was helping on the boat. James had been forced to drop out during his junior year of high school to help out. Claire had been allowed to stay. James never seemed to resent her for it.

Her father, Arnaud Rousseau, had died shortly after this was taken. James had joined the Navy only a month after their father passed away. They didn't have much in the way of money, even after selling the boat. The house, along with most of their possessions had burnt down. Whatever was left was being stored in Claire's apartment in New Orleans, if she still even had an apartment.

In the picture, Claire was smiling while standing in between her two favourite people. The only family she had left. She hasn't smiled like that in a very long time. They were a tall family, both her father and brother stood at over six feet. In comparison, they made Claire's five feet eight inches look tiny. She had her long hair in this. Claire wondered if James or her father would even recognize her.

She tried to remember what they were talking about in that moment, but she couldn't. It had been so long ago. The one thing she could remember was that they were celebrating Claire's acceptance into a nursing program in New Orleans.

The necklace Claire held in her hand was one of the silver medallions with St. Michael on it. She held it in her hand and smiled. While Claire didn't remember much of her mother, she did recall that she had a fascination with Saints. Claire seemed to inherit this fascination. She received it as a birthday gift when she was ten years old. She'd given this one to James just before he left for the Navy.

Claire would never forget receiving that telegram. It came in nearly three days after the attack. It was a certain someone she was trying very hard to forget that sent her the necklace. There was no body to bury. Only an empty casket with a white cross. She been given a folded American flag, which now sat on her desk back home. Claire wondered who they would send her flag to if she died. She wondered who would clean out her apartment, or if the landlord would simply sell it all.

Claire couldn't keep the tears at bay anymore as the grief weighed heavy in her chest. She missed him. God how she did. It felt like a part of her died with him that day. Claire hoped that he was proud of her.

" _No more tears, Claire,"_ she heard her brother tell her. _"What did our father always tell us? Les Rousseau: 'Nous sommes fort. Nous sommes solide'. We can do anything."_

Claire wiped away her tears.

 _Nous sommes solide._

* * *

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Easy Company was moving on to Fort Benning to do jump school. Colonel Sink heard that the record for the longest march was held by the Japanese. They'd marched one hundred miles. Of course, this meant that the 506th had to beat it. They set off the one hundred and eighteen mile march from Toccoa to Atlanta. It was the most miserable experience she'd had thus far.

While on the march, they were under the guise that they were marching through enemy territory. It was freezing cold at night, so much that Claire's boots froze. After that first night, she decided to sleep with her boots on. On the way, Claire dealt with cases of dehydration, frostbite, and anything that came from exhaustion. Roe had to practically force water down her throat, and she him. They were always checking on others, and barely looking after themselves. Lucky for her, she didn't need to lug around all the extra weight some guys did because they were machine gunners or part of the mortar squad. Poor Malarkey couldn't even walk by the last night. Muck, being the stand-up guys he was, went to the chow-line and got food for the both of them and ate with him in their tent. Both Claire and Dick tried to convince Malarkey to take the ambulance, but the man was determined to finish with the rest of them. This was something Claire respected greatly.

Over her time at Toccoa with these men, Claire grew to respect them. She was relieved that she would be going to war with them. The only man in Easy Company she would _never_ have any for was Sobel. She always said that respect had to be earned, not given, and even despite Sobel's rank, he did not have the respect of his men. Chickenshit, that was the best way to describe him.

Claire could still hardly believe the change in the men, or even herself. For so long, Claire believed Currahee's meaning 'We stand alone' meant that she would be alone in everything. Yet, she had bonded with these men. She actually liked them, something she didn't expect to happen. That distance that had been so obvious at the start wasn't there for the most part. They stood alone together, as strange as it sounded.

Claire walked up to Guarnere, Toye, and Luz who were sitting around a fire. They stopped for the night.

"Guarnere, you hangin' in there?" Claire asked. Guarnere had rolled his ankle the day before. Claire had wrapped it up and advised that when they stopped he keep it elevated.

"Doin' fine Russ," he assured.

"Russ?" Claire looked at him oddly.

"Yeah, like Rousseau, only less French," he explained. "'S what we've been callin' you."

She realized that the nickname was a sign of acceptance and respect. It was one small thing, hardly anything to most people, but to Claire it meant a lot.

"Russ… I like it," she told him. "Toye, how're the fingers?" She asked going right back to business. He'd gotten frostbite. She'd spent the better part of the previous night thawing them out.

"Better, thanks, ma'am."

"And Luz, keepin' hydrated?" He'd gotten dehydrated earlier. He had to carry the large radio on his back.

"Jesus, you're worst than my ma," Luz spoke jokingly. Claire's relationship with a majority of the men had gotten significantly better. She found herself joking with them, talking to them. She kept a distance, not wanting to get too comfortable, otherwise they may not respect her anymore.

"If I was your mother, Luz, I'd tell you to eat your vegetables or some shit," she retorted. She couldn't remember her mother very much.

Claire took the spot next to him. Luz offered her a smoke. She took it and brought it up to her lips and lit it. She didn't make a habit of smoking, every once in awhile she would have one. Claire hoarded all the smokes the army supplied. She never knew when she would need them.

That night, Claire slipped off her boots for the first time in three days. She had to change her socks. Her feet throbbed. There were massive blisters on them. Claire didn't want them to burst. She needed to cover them until she could treat them properly. She cut up pieces of medical tape and covered them. It wasn't ideal, but it would get her through the next few days. They were more than halfway done; she could make it. She'd come too far now to quit.

Finally, after seventy-two hours, they made it to Atlanta. Claire and the rest of the men were ecstatic to see the train that would take them the rest of the way. They made it to Fort Benning.

* * *

 _Fort Benning – 1943_

After another few weeks of training at Fort Benning, they were finally going to do the first practice jump and earn their wings. Prior to their gearing up, an instructor told them what to expect. They were to complete five practice jumps. If they failed one or froze in the plane, they would be out of the Airborne.

Claire was getting her certification with the other officers. They did their practice jumps before the enlisted men. The excitement coursed through her veins as she climbed onto the plane in full gear. She sat close to the front next to Dick. Lew was right across from them and Sobel was a few people down, thankfully. She didn't want to be around him any longer than she needed to be. At one thousand meters, the instructor told them to hook up. Claire stood up in the plane and hooked herself up to the cable. She didn't feel all that nervous, maybe it was the adrenaline.

"Equipment check!" The instructor yelled over the loud plane engine. Claire checked Lew's equipment. "Sound off for equipment check!"

"Ten okay!" She could only hear from ten up, though they were twenty on the plane.

"Nine okay!"

"Eight okay!"

"Seven okay!"

"Six okay!" Sobel yelled out.

"Five okay!"

"Four okay!" She then felt a tap on her shoulder.

"Three okay!" She yelled out and tapped Lew's shoulder.

"Two okay!" He yelled. She saw him tap Dick on the shoulder.

"One okay!" Dick yelled.

When the light turned green, Dick was the first one out. Then it was Lew. Then Claire moved up, the wind blowing in the open doorway.

"Go! Go! Go!" The instructor urged. Claire didn't think, she simply jumped out of the plane.

 _1000, 2000, 3000, 4000…_ She let got of the reserve chute and maneuvered her main chute.

Free falling in the air was the most awesome and terrifying feeling she'd ever had in her life. It lasted maybe two or three seconds before her chute deployed and she began gliding through the air. She felt like she was flying. This was the closest to feeling absolute freedom she would ever get.

All too soon it was over. She landed on the ground and quickly collected her chute. It was exhilarating. She'd actually done it; she'd leapt out of a perfectly good airplane. She wanted to go and do it again, but knew she would need to wait for the next training jump.

About a week and four jumps later, Claire was awarded her jump wings. That night, the entirety of Easy Company went to the bar to celebrate. She even put on some lipstick Claire was wearing her Class A uniform, her jump wings displayed proudly. It was the first time she was in her uniform skirt since her arrival at Toccoa. It felt strange being back in it, since she'd been in trousers every day since she started training.

Claire went to the bar and got herself a beer. She wasn't much of a drinker, but today was cause to celebrate. Luz was behind the bar serving drinks. Webster, Talbert, Toye, and Lipton were standing by the bar as well.

"Hey, hey, Lieutenant Rousseau," Luz said. "Need a drink?"

"Wouldn't be here if I didn't," she told him. Luz grabbed her a beer in a large frothy mug.

"Thanks," she said. "Oh, and Luz, I think you owe me money."

They gave her an odd look.

"Just how much did that pool get up to?" Claire asked. She knew they had a pool going on when she would wash out. Talbert choked on his beer.

"Uh…" Luz stammered. "We… uh… we didn't mean anything by it."

Claire gave a friendly wink and had a smirk on her lips as she walked away.

Claire went over to where Roe stood alone. She noticed how often he did that. He was a part of the group, but not really. Claire knew why he retreated, it was one of the reasons she did too.

"Has there ever been a beer that tasted so sweet?" Claire said as she stood next to him on the wall. "Good reward for weeks of training and jumping out of a plane."

"Not a bad party," he replied.

"Laisser les bons temps rouler," _(Let the good times roll)_ she spoke raising her mug to cheers their big accomplishment.

"Laisser les bons temps rouler," he repeated.

They clinked their mugs together. She took a big drink from her mug.

"Now, the real work begins," she said.

"Ten-hut!" Sobel's voice cut through the party. Everyone stood at attention. Colonel Sink, Major Horton, and Major Strayer came into the room.

"Well, at ease paratroopers," Colonel Sink said. Claire's position shifted to the at ease. "Good evening Easy Company."

"Evening, sir," they replied.

"Now, Parachute Infantry is a brand new concept in American Military history. But, by God, the 506 is gonna forge that brand new concept into victory," Sink said proudly.

"Yes sir!" the Company replied.

"I want you to know that I am damn proud of each and every one of you," he continued. He finished that statement looking directly at her. Claire smiled at him. "Now you deserve this party. So I want you to have fun and remember our motto: 'Currahee'."

"Currahee!" They all cheered back.

* * *

 _Camp Mackall- June 23_ _rd_ _1943_

After spending another month and a half at Fort Benning, they moved onto Camp Mackall in North Carolina. Claire's birthday passed in February. She hadn't realized what day it was until it was almost done. She didn't tell anyone, never caring much for her birthday. She was twenty-two now.

They remained there for four months, doing training jumps, running tactical exercises. What they learnt over the last four months, was that Sobel was terrible out in the field. He got paranoid, jumpy, and that would ultimately get them killed.

In one particular exercise, they were in a ditch, well concealed and waiting for their enemy. Claire had a helmet with a thick red cross surrounded by a white circle on it, along with the white armband. Claire was standing in the middle next to Luz. Sobel looked around frantically.

"Petty! Map!" He ordered in a loud whisper.

"Coullion," _(idiot)_ Claire muttered under her breath. Luckily, no one but Roe would know what she was saying.

"The fuck's he doing?" Luz asked barely above a whisper.

She was an officer; she couldn't tell an enlisted man exactly what she thought of their CO.

"Second platoon, move out," Dick ordered.

"You gotta be fucking kidding me," Luz muttered in disbelief. Claire sighed and they followed the Company out of the dried up creek bed.

They walked maybe two minutes when they came across piles of bushes. The men popped out from beneath them and raised their weapons.

"Son of a bitch," Guarnere cursed just loud enough for Claire to hear.

The leader of the drill stepped out. "Captain, you've just been killed along with ninety-five percent of your company. Your outfit?"

"Easy Company, 2nd battalion, 506th," Sobel said.

 _He led us like lambs to the slaughter,_ she thought to herself.

"Leave three wounded men on the ground and report back to the assembly area," the instructor ordered.

Sobel pointed at three men and told the rest to follow him. At this rate, he'd make Claire's job easy since they'd all be dead.

"Branleur," _(wanker)_ she cursed Sobel under her breath.

* * *

"You know, I'm beginnin' to see why you're so excited to leave for Battalion HQ," Claire told Lew when they made it back to the barracks. He was packing up his stuff to move with the other Battalion officers. She'd been a little sad when she found out. It had been Lew, Dick, and Claire since the start.

"I wouldn't say excited. My new bunkmates will not be nearly as pretty as my last one," he countered.

"You're talking about Dick, right?" She asked jokingly.

Lew rolled his eyes.

"So, Sobel led the company to the slaughter, huh?" Lew questioned bringing them back on topic.

"Uh-huh," Claire answered.

"What're you gonna do?" He asked this to Dick. Claire knew there was nothing they could do about this. Sobel was their CO, and nothing they could do would change that.

"Keep training the men," Dick answered. "Nothing else we can do."

"Am I interrupting something?" A smaller man came in the barracks.

"No, no, Lieutenant Nixon, Lieutenant Rousseau, this is Lieutenant Harry Welsh, straight in from the 82nd," Dick introduced.

Claire shook his hand.

"I thought they were screwing with me when they said there was a dame in Easy," Harry Welsh said.

"Nope, I'm real. That won't be a problem, will it?" Claire asked in an almost dangerous tone.

"No, ma'am," Harry told her. He shook Lew's hand. "Congratulations on the promotion."

"Thanks, if you want to call it that." Lew had actually asked for a transfer into Battalion to get away from having to deal with Sobel. "You'll learn them pretty quickly, him: no flaws, no sense of humour. Her: quiet 'til you piss her off, and believe me, you will."

"And you would know that, wouldn't you Lew," Claire joked.

"Oh, yes, I do," he replied. Welsh looked a little dejected.

"What's up?" Dick asked.

"I'm hearing rumblings," Welsh answered.

"About Sobel?" Lew asked. "We were just talking about that."

"So, he gets jumpy in the field?" Welsh questioned.

"That's one way of puttin' it," Claire mumbled under her breath.

"He gets jumpy, and you get killed," Lew countered.

"That's nice…"

"Yep, welcome aboard Lieutenant Welsh," Claire said.

"We can't discuss this around the men," Winters reminded.

"Of course not, Dick," Claire replied. They all knew not to discuss it. They could have their misgivings and fears, but voicing them to the enlisted men did no one any good.

Sobel came in the room munching on an apple. Claire hoped he hadn't heard what they were saying.

"Second Platoon ready?" Sobel asked Dick.

"Ready, sir," Dick answered.

"Then get them in formation, we're moving out," said Sobel.

"Yes, sir." Dick and Welsh walked out of the room, leaving Claire and Lew alone with Sobel.

Sobel took another bite of his apple and cast her a disdainful look. Claire held his glare until he broke away. Now that Claire had earned her wings, there was nothing Sobel could do to get her out of Easy. He'd given up on constantly degrading her. Still, Claire's hatred of him did not lessen.

* * *

 _September 1943_

A few weeks later Claire found herself sitting in a train staring out the window with a blank sheet of paper in front of her. Ever since she first arrived at Toccoa a year ago, Claire had taken to writing in a journal, well, they were more like letters addressed to her brother. She wrote to him describing her day, her training, and the men she was with. It was one of the things that kept her going during those long lonely months of training. It reminded her of why she was doing this.

"Enjoying the view, Lieutenant?" Muck asked. He, Malarkey, and Penkala filled the seats around her.

"Mm, lot a fields," she said. "What can I do for you?"

"C'mon, Russ, maybe we just wanna sit," Malarkey replied.

"Mmhmm," she said disbelieving.

"You know where we're going, ma'am?" Penkala asked.

Ah, there it was. "Not a clue," she answered. "But even if I did, I wouldn't be allowed to tell you."

"Personally, I hope it's the Pacific, get stationed on some tropical island surrounded by naked native girls where they hand feed me grapes," Muck spoke.

The mental image alone made Claire giggle. "Pretty sure they'll beat you with a fish, Muck."

"With any luck."

"What about you, ma'am, where do you want them to send us?" Malarkey asked.

Her first thought was to agree with Muck and say the Pacific, mostly because she wanted to get revenge on the people who killed her brother, but she shrugged instead.

"Don't matter where they send us," she told them. "Wherever we go, we'll kick ass."

"Damn right, we will," Muck agreed.

As it turned out, they were going to Europe. The train dropped them off and they were shipped to the Brooklyn Naval Shipyard. Sobel sent a telegram to their families informing them that Easy Company was being sent to Europe. Claire wasn't sure who they would send her telegram to. Maybe her aunt? Claire had only ever met the woman a few times in her life. Her aunt was a heinous woman, just like all of Claire's mother's side of the family. They probably didn't care that she was going to war. Or perhaps no one. She didn't have a next of kin.

Claire embarked on the USS Samaria and was quartered with Lew, Dick, and Harry. The officers' quarters were tiny, normally a room this small should not contain more than one person, yet they were four. Still, she couldn't complain since the other alternative was to be below deck with the enlisted men. After she dropped off her things, Claire made her way up to the deck.

Claire marveled at the outline of Manhattan. She'd never been, now she wondered if she'd ever get to see it at all. The boat went past the Statue of Liberty. Claire felt a strange satisfaction in it being a woman that was a symbol of freedom in this country. The sun setting as a backdrop made Claire smile. She saw Sergeant Lipton come next to her.

"I never thought the Statue of Liberty was that big," she admitted.

"Does have its own island."

"Until this whole war started, furthest I ever went from Breaux Bridge was New Orleans. Since then, I've been to Colorado, Georgia, North Carolina, New York. Now, I'm goin' to England," she spoke. "Where're you from, Sergeant Lipton?"

"Huntington, West Virginia, ma'am," he answered. "Spent my whole life there, never left until I enlisted."

"Seems to be the story. Was it nice? Huntington," she asked.

"Parts of it were," he answered. "Was it nice where you grew up, ma'am?"

Claire thought about it for a moment. "Parts of it."

Not much, but some things were.

"What did you do there?" She asked.

"Helped my mother run a boarding house with my brother," he explained.

She noticed how he didn't mention his father. She didn't bring it up.

"What was it like?" He asked her. "Home."

Claire smiled thinking of home. "We lived in a small house right on the side of the bayou right outside town. It was almost like we were living in our own world."

Magic, is what she would call her home.

"D'you miss it?" He asked.

That home burnt down four years ago. This was the first time she talked about it without tearing up. Either she was moving passed it or her grief was now placed somewhere else.

"Don't you miss home?"

"Yeah," he answered.

Claire stared back out at the coast. The Statue of Liberty fading in the distance.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Lip asked.

She nodded. "Sure worth fighting for."

Long after Sergeant Lipton went back down, Claire remained on deck. Until last year, Claire thought the water was a second home. She grew up along the bayou, Claire spent an awful lot of time on the water with her family. And then James died when his boat sank, suddenly the water didn't seem so kind anymore. She pulled the medallion out of her pocket and gripped it in her hand. As the US Coast grew smaller and smaller in the distance, Claire wondered if she would ever make it back home again, and if she did, where home would be.

* * *

 **Thank you to everyone who left reviews!** **I hope you're enjoying it. If there are any questions in regards to the history or anything at all, please feel free to ask. Let me know what you think.**


	3. Mutiny

Claire pulled the pile of cash towards her. This was the third time in a row she won.

"I thought you said you never played?" Lew said suspiciously.

The game was with Lew, Harry, and Lieutenant Speirs from Dog Company. Speirs was a gruff and intense man, but he had this weird sense of humour Claire liked. They were playing in Harry, Claire, Dick, and Lew's quarters on a box set up in the middle of the tiny room. Dick was up in his bunk reading. She could see the smirk on his face.

"Beginners luck?" Claire suggested innocently.

"Yeah, that went out the window two rounds ago. Men, I think we've been hustled," Lew retorted.

"I think you might be right, Nix," Harry agreed.

"We could play another round? Maybe my luck'll wear off," Claire shrugged.

"Yeah, no, don't want to be broke when we get off this damn boat," Lew countered. "How the Hell did you get so good?"

"Maybe you're just terrible?" She offered.

"Please, I went to Yale. Poker was a mandatory class," Lew countered.

Claire shrugged. "Fishing boats are boring and my brother and I had to keep entertained somehow. My dad taught us how to play," she explained.

"Your dad teach you to hustle?" Speirs asked.

"Oh no, I learnt that on my own," she answered. "It's all body language."

If she'd learnt anything over the years, it was that men would always doubt women, which meant she needed to be smarter, more cunning than them. It was the only way she could get ahead.

"Harry, Ron, are you up for another round?"

"I'm out," Speirs answered.

"Yep," Harry agreed.

Claire smirked, and pocketed the money.

"Just don't spend it all in one place," Lew teased.

"Aw, there goes my plan to buy a pony," she faked disappointment. "Pleasure doin' business with you."

* * *

 _Aldbourne, England – September 1943_

After thirteen very long and dull days, they finally landed in Aldbourne. Claire and the rest of the officers were quartered with locals. Claire knocked at the door of the small house in the middle of town.

"Hello?" Claire called out as she knocked again. She checked her papers, this was the right address.

The front door swung open to reveal a young girl who couldn't be older than twelve. The girl had dark brown hair, pale skin, dark brown eyes, with a light brush of freckles across her nose.

"Um… hello," Claire greeted awkwardly.

"Mum, the Yank's here!" The little girl called over her shoulder.

An older woman, probably in her early forties, appeared at the door. Upon looking at Claire, she tried to hide her surprise. The older woman looked almost identical to her daughter, save for the nose and lips.

"Hello, ma'am," she greeted. "Lieutenant Claire Rousseau."

"Yes, yes, of course," she smiled. "My name is Olivia Phillips. This is my daughter Alice. I'm sorry, when they asked me to house a soldier, I was expecting a man."

"If it's a problem, I can leave," Claire offered.

"Alice, dear, would you please show the Lieutenant to her room?"

"Yes mum," Alice said.

Claire smiled.

The house was small and cozy. Framed pictures covered the walls and there were fall flowers in vases. Alice led her upstairs to a bedroom at the end of the hall.

"This is my brother David's room," she explained. "He's in the army too… You're a woman."

Claire smirked. "Yes, I am."

"Did you need to cut your hair?" Alice pestered.

"No, I wanted to," she responded.

"I didn't think women could join the Army. Is that normal in America?" Alice asked curiously.

"No, I'm one of the only ones," she answered. "And I'm a nurse, not a soldier."

"Alice, come help with supper," Olivia called for her daughter.

Just like that, Alice had ran back down the stairs.

* * *

Just like every day at Toccoa, Mackall, or Fort Benning, the company fell into a routine. They did strategic exercises, shooting practice, practice jumps, physical training, map reading, foxhole digging, bayonet fighting along with all the other stuff. Later, they began practicing with the 4th Infantry in preparation for the invasion.

They would go on two-three day training exercises to practice living in the harsh conditions. Claire and the Easy Company men slept in foxholes and 'went fishing' –meaning they threw a grenade in the water and killed the fish. The fisherman blood in her DNA watched it in horror.

Claire exchanged letters with Lieutenant Thomson. Her last letter, which came about a week ago included a picture of her and five other men. They were all in raggedy dungarees and looked as though they'd been through the ringer. On the back of the picture, Eleanor wrote: _Guadalcanal October 1942. Lucky, Runner, Chuckler, Tommy, Hoosier, Sid_. Eleanor was much shorter than the men. She was probably a few inches shorter then Claire. She hadn't cut her light hair like Claire had.

Claire sent Eleanor a letter and attached a pictures of herself, along with Eugene, Luz, Malarkey, Muck, Penkala, and Guarnere from after a practice jump so they were all in their harnesses. A photographer took the picture and Claire managed to bribe him with some Lucky Strikes and some of her card winnings for it. It was nice having someone to write to, even if it wasn't frequent. Through letters, she'd developed a strange friendship with Eleanor.

Claire was asked to lead basic first aid classes for the men since there may come a time when neither Claire, nor Roe could be there, which would mean that if another soldier got wounded, they had to know what they were doing.

"Your responsibility is to keep the wounded man alive long enough for a medic to get to them," Claire instructed the group. Currently, she had First Platoon there. "But, your main priority needs to be clearing the area. If you're with someone, one covers while the other bandages, but, if you're alone, you should not put yourself in danger. Won't do anyone any good if you get wounded or killed too. Any questions?"

No one said anything.

"Okay, moving on. Each of you will be given a small aid kit. In it, you will have one bandage, two packs of sulfa, and a syrette of morphine," Claire kept lecturing.

During her lectures, Claire would have the men practice lifts based on whatever wound they were dealing with. She had them work lifting soldiers of varying sizes from the small Perconte's to the much larger Randleman's.

When Claire wasn't training, or giving lectures, she found herself going on walks around Aldbourne. The town was picturesque, and if it hadn't been for all the military personnel, Claire would've thought it was something out of a fairy tale. Claire spent some time with Olivia and Alice. She found out Olivia's husband, Thomas, was killed in action at Dunkirk. Her son, David, had just been deployed to Italy. He was barely eighteen. It was Alice, who was only eleven, that told Claire all of this. Olivia liked to keep to herself, something Claire respected as she was the same way. Olivia also worked long hours in a factory two towns over.

Claire and Roe had been spared from doing a field exercise one day because they were doing more training with the other medics. They were looking over anatomy in order to teach the medics which wounds would take priority over others. Claire spent most of the lecture bored since she'd already gone through all of this. After the lecture, she was waiting for Roe, who was finishing up his notes. When they walked out, Claire could see the overwhelmed look on his face.

"This reminds me of my first year in nursing school," she spoke when they left. "'Cept I was you back then. I'll tell you this, lookin' at diagrams and pictures of the human body don't compare to the real thing."

Roe gave her a strange look.

"You seem to keep forgettin' that I worked at a hospital before joinin' the army," she teased. "Nurses need to be at least twenty-one to join up. Day I turned twenty-one, I went to the recruiter's office and signed up."

Claire never talked about her life before joining the army, but she trusted him.

"Didn't your family have something to say, ma'am?" Roe asked. Claire looked down at her feet.

"No, they didn't," she answered. "Point is, Roe, you won't know exactly what to do until you need to. So do your training, listen, but don't panic. And if you need help, let me know."

"Yes, ma'am," he replied.

"Roe, we're going to be working together, you can call me Claire, or Rousseau, or Russ," she told him.

"You can call me Eugene, or Gene," he replied.

"C'mon, let's go get food, Gene."

She and Roe were heading towards the mess hall when suddenly they stopped.

"What the…" Claire muttered under her breath when a cow was eating grass.

"Where did that come from?" Roe asked. The base was flooded with cows.

Just then, Claire turned and saw all of the rest of Easy Company walking up in formation with Sobel in the lead. Claire saw him stop and look at the cows.

"My guess, Sobel got lost again," she deduced.

* * *

As it turned out, her deduction had been right. They'd figured out months ago that Sobel was unable to read a map, a skill that was life or death when heading into battle. To make things worst, a few days after the cow debacle, Sobel court martialed Dick.

"You're kidding me, right?" Claire asked when Lew told her on their way back from base.

"Nope," Lew answered. "I'm trying to find a loophole since the charges are bullshit."

"But until then…"

"Until then, Strayer bumped him to Battalion Mess."

"And what if you can't find a loophole?" Claire asked. "We do the jump alone with Sobel."

"Yep."

"Jesus Christ," Claire cursed. "Without Dick, Sobel's gonna get us all killed."

"FUBAR," Lew declared. It stood for Fucked Up Beyond All Recognition. Pretty much what this situation was.

"Damn right," she agreed.

"I am doing what I can, Claire," he assured.

"I know. How is he?" She asked.

"Stoic, as per usual," Lew responded. Claire felt the nerves knot up her stomach.

There had to be some way out of this. Sobel would lead these men to the slaughter, or he'd freeze and still get his men killed. Claire hated this helpless feeling she had in her gut.

Claire went back to the Phillips residence with a somber feeling. It was late afternoon when she got back, meaning Alice had just gotten back from school. Normally, Claire would still be in training, but they ended early today since it was Friday.

Alice was sitting at the kitchen table doing what looked to be homework. Claire went upstairs and shrugged out of her uniform jacket, she didn't have much in the way of non-military clothing. Then walked into the kitchen. She noticed how quiet the house was, and Alice's dejected face.

"Alice, is your mom home?" Claire asked.

"No, she needed to work a double shift tonight," Alice answered.

"Have you eaten?" She asked.

"Not yet, no. I thought you'd be gone."

"No, I'm here," she retorted. "And I'm hungry. What is there to eat?"

"Um… not much. Mum meant to go to the shop but didn't have time," Alice explained.

"Okay… I have an idea," she said. Claire grabbed the apron hanging by the fridge. "But I'm gonna need your help."

Alice's face lit up.

She knew the Phillips family had a small vegetable patch. She sent Alice to get whatever vegetables she wanted. Claire looked in the fridge and found some meat. Most likely, it was horse because of rationing. She grabbed the pot from one of the cupboards. Claire came back with a handful of vegetables.

"What're we making?" Alice asked.

"Where does your mom keep spices?"

"Um… that cupboard there," Alice pointed. Claire opened it and saw there was very limited choice. Claire pulled out the the salt and pepper. She sniffed some of the other, more unfamiliar, spices in the cupboard and grabbed what she could.

"I'd give my right arm for some Cayenne pepper," she said. Claire found a cube of chicken broth. Okay, she could work with this.

"What are we making?" Alice asked once more.

"Well, it's a bit different then what I'm used to, but I call it 'Bottom of the Cupboard' stew," she explained. "I used to make it for my dad and my brother when they were out all day on the boat. It's real easy, we cut up some vegetables, throw in whatever meat we got, add some spice for flavour…"

"What can I do to help?" Alice asked.

"You can start by washin' the vegetables," she instructed. Claire unwrapped the horse meat and grabbed the seasonings.

As they cooked, they chatted and laughed. Claire seasoned the meat and cut it up in smaller pieces and tossed them in the pot to cook. Claire was quite fond of Alice. The young girl reminded Claire of herself at that age.

"…and then we fell into the pond," Alice ended as she chopped up the carrots. Claire was peeling a couple of potatoes to go with it. "Mum was livid when David and I came back into the house all sopping wet."

Claire smiled and laughed at the story.

"I remember this one time when I was about your age, maybe a bit younger and we had to go with our father for a few days all the way to New Orleans since the business was usually better. It was Mardi Gras when we got there, which where I'm from is one of the biggest days of the year," Claire explained. She was now chopping the potatoes. "The streets are full of people wearing bright coloured masks, costumes, music filling every inch. There are parades and dancing and fireworks, the one day a year where nothin' bad can happen. All day, my brother and I watched the people go by, wantin' to be there with 'em, but my dad told us not to leave his sight."

"But then, when the day was ending my father came back with two masks in his hands, he gave one to my brother, and the other to me. He took us through the streets, all the way up to this old restaurant. I didn't know what we were doin' 'til he brought us to the roof. We watched the parade from up above and stayed until the fireworks finished," Claire recounted. She didn't mention how terrified she was of the fireworks. "It was the first year I ever got to go to Mardi Gras, and it's still my favourite."

"We don't have anythin' like that here," Alice said sadly.

"Ain't no place in the world like New Orleans on Mardi Gras," Claire replied.

"I'd like to go," Alice told her. "D'you think I could one day?"

"Yeah, I do," Claire answered.

"Where was your mum?" Alice asked. "She didn't go with you, did she?"

"No, she didn't… my mom died when I was nine," Claire explained. "It's why he took us."

"I'm sorry," Alice replied.

"'S alright. It was a long time ago," she assured.

"Is that why you became a nurse?" Alice asked.

Claire shrugged. "My mother was a nurse in the Great War, and then after the war too. She helped people. I wanted to do that too. Ever since I was a girl, it's what I've wanted."

"I want to be a writer like Emily Dickinson," Alice told her. "My dream is to go to Oxford, but we'll never be able to afford it even if I can get in."

"If that's what you want, Alice, you gotta work hard for it," she explained. "Nothin' comes easy."

"I know…" Alice drifted off.

"I think you'll make a great writer someday," Claire assured.

"Mum thinks I should be a laundress. Before the war and my father… that's what she did. Then she had to work in a factory. I think she's tired of life. I haven't seen her smile in three years," Alice let slip. "Please… please don't tell her I said that."

"I promise," Claire assured. Alice still had a naiveté and innocence Claire admired but the girl was wise beyond her years. She supposed that happens when there's a war.

The vegetables were now cooking in the broth with the meat. Surprisingly, it smelt great. There was a knock at the front door and Alice ran to answer it.

"Claire," she called out. "It's for you!"

Claire laid the spoon on the table and walked up to the front door. Standing there were Lipton, Martin, Randleman, Guarnere, Grant, and Talbert.

"Hey, Lieutenant, what's cookin'?" Guarnere asked. He was eyeing the apron tied around her waist. It must look strange since she was still in uniform.

"Alice and I were makin' dinner," she explained. She turned to the younger girl. "Why don't you go keep stirring, should be about ready."

Alice nodded then took off. Claire wiped her hands on the apron.

"What can I do for you tonight?" Claire asked.

"Well, um, we were hoping to talk," Lipton spoke up.

"Alice," she called out. "Looks like we'll be havin' some guests for dinner. C'mon in."

Alice seemed intimidated by the men, especially by the very large Bull Randleman. Once dinner was ready, she told Alice and the men to go wash up.

"You sound just like my mother," Guarnere complained.

"Shut up and go do it," she ordered in a light tone. Claire set a bowl of the stew aside for Olivia.

Having five large men and two not so large women left the table feeling cramped. Alice stuck to her side like glue, though she seemed to warm up to Lipton who was asking her about things like school.

"Jesus, Russ, I didn't know you could cook," Guarenere complimented.

"Yes, Bill, I cook," she said. "Don't get used to it, ain't ever happenin' again."

Once they were done eating, Claire asked if Alice could give them a moment. She then had the boys clear the table, much to their grumbling, and then they sat down.

"So, when're we gonna talk 'bout why you're here?" Claire asked.

"Ma'am, we've been talking with the other NCOs," Lipton started. "We can't go into battle with Captain Sobel."

This made Claire freeze. Oh no, they could _not_ be coming to her with this. "Sergeant Lipton, I need you to stop right there."

"Lieutenant…" Talbert started.

"No," she cut him off. "I _can't_ be listenin' to this. If you're here because you think I've got some pull…"

What she didn't say was just how delicate her situation was. One wrong move and she would be out. It wouldn't take much and she knew that. Claire had been working so hard to gain the respect of the men, and she'd made it this far by keeping herself out of trouble. She wasn't an idiot.

"Lieutenant, we just wanna know if there's a loophole," Martin specified. They were coming to her because they thought she could give them an idea of what was happening with the whole court martial thing.

Claire sat quiet for a moment. "All I know is that Lieutenant Nixon's tryin' to find one."

The men gave her a defeated look. She thought hard about what to say next.

"Now, I need you to listen to me very carefully… With Lieutenant Winters gone, you Non-Coms are the only thing keeping this company together. The invasion of Europe is comin' and _now_ 's not the time for us to lose you. D'you understand me?" She asked hoping they got the message.

"Yes, ma'am," they all answered at the same time.

"Good. Now go on, go to the pub and have a drink."

Jesus, it was hard to believe that at one point all the men sitting around this table were rooting for her failure. Now they were coming and asking her about things, she'd gained their trust and their acceptance. Hell, they did the thing she least expected from them, they actually liked her. Things sure have changed over the last year.

The men left the house after that. When she shut the door, Claire let out a deep breath. She doubted they would take what she said, they never did.

* * *

Claire was walking by HQ towards the base when she saw Sobel tossing his bags in the back of a jeep looking angry. He noticed her walking and glared.

"I'm sure you were just ecstatic to hear the news," he stated snidely.

"Sir?" Claire looked at him oddly.

"Don't pretend like you don't know," he snapped. "I've been promoted. The division is sending me to run a jump school out of Chilton Foliate. I leave effective immediately."

Claire kept her composure at the news. He was leaving. "Congratulations, sir. I can't think of anyone more deserving of this than you."

Sobel glared at her once more before turning away. Claire remained where she was and watched Sobel leave. The jeep passed by and Claire saluted, unable to keep the small smirk off her lips. He was actually gone.

Claire walked to the base and saw Lew first. Her small smirk had grown into a large wide smile. Never had she been more relieved about anything.

"Guess you heard the good news, then," Lew noted.

"Just saw him drive away," she said.

"Didn't know your face could smile like that," he told her. "Kinda weird."

Claire mockingly glared at him.

"Whop, there's the Claire I know," he teased.

"So you found a loophole, then?" Claire asked.

"I didn't, NCOs did," Lew explained.

"What do you mean?"

"Gave Sink an ultimatum, them or Sobel. Yep, Harris got transferred out of the regiment and Ranney got busted back to Private," he continued.

"And the rest? What happened to them?" Claire asked.

"Nothing, they're fine," Lew assured.

"They did it…"

"Claire…"

"I thought maybe they would take what I said with a grain of salt, since they've always done that," she countered.

"What did you do?" He asked.

"Uh… well…" She stammered and then explained the conversation. "But I never thought they would actually listen. It was the only way."

She looked down at her feet. It was reckless what they did… what she did.

"They did the right thing," he assured.

"I know. Finally, that asshole's gone," she sighed in relief. "This mean Dick's back?"

"Yep."

"Who's replacing Sobel?" She asked.

"Meehan from Baker."

She met him a few times. He was a nice enough man. She wondered, however, how he was going to take having her there.

* * *

 _May 31_ _st_ _1944 - Upottery, England_

Having a competent CO made the last seven months of training much more bearable. Another birthday came and went, Claire could hardly believe she was now twenty-three. Twenty-three was the age her brother was when he died. As the invasion drew closer, Claire wondered if she'd live to see her twenty-fourth birthday.

Claire liked Lieutenant Meehan. He did not make comments about her sex, especially after she proved to be a capable medic. She wouldn't say he had the same trust for her as Lew, Dick, or Harry did, but he certainly had more than Sobel.

Leaving Aldbourne proved to be a lot more difficult than she'd thought. Claire hadn't realized how close she'd gotten to Alice since arriving in England. She'd grown to love the girl as the little sister she never got. Before leaving, as a thank you gift to both Olivia and Alice, she'd bought them each a silk scarf she found while on a one-week furlough to Scotland. She also got Alice a journal and a beautiful pen. Alice made her promise to write.

When they arrived at Upottery, Claire met Buck Compton. He was a new Lieutenant assigned to Easy Company. He was a large, charismatic man with bright blond hair and even brighter blue eyes. The men seemed to like him, it helped that he would go and play craps with them. This was something Dick was not a fan of. It didn't exactly bother her, but she agreed with Dick. Officers shouldn't take anything from the enlisted men.

The Upottery Airfield was quite a sight to see. There were British soldiers wearing German uniforms so the Americans could familiarize themselves with it. While on the base, they did practice jumps and ran drills. The inevitability of the invasion weighed heavily upon them.

A few days after arriving, they were finally told where they were going: Normandy. It was a massive invasion attacking from four different beachheads. The USA had Omaha beach and Utah beach. Their objective was to take the town of Carentan, thus linking Utah and Omaha into one continuous beach head. Between their assembly area and the objective there was a German garrison, and it was Easy Company who was in charge of taking it out. They would be jumping the night before the invasion, deep into enemy territory.

Claire spent much of her free time studying. She poured over the maps and the manuals. She was confident in her skills and her experience dealing with injured people in the hospital back home, but her nervousness grew over the invasion.

"Alright, c'mon," Lew told her one night. He was supposed to be bunking with the other men that worked at Battalion HQ, but he would often find himself in the tent of the other Easy Company officers. He walked over to her bunk and pulled the manual from Claire's hands.

"Hey! I was readin' that," Claire snapped.

"And now you're not," he retorted. "Claire, I've seen you read through that thing a dozen times since getting here. I'm pretty sure I heard you reciting it in your sleep."

"What's your point? I want to be ready," she said.

"And you are," he assured. "You need some fresh air."

Claire rolled her eyes, but allowed herself to be taken out of the tent. The airfield was quiet since it was late in the night. It was June 3rd.

"It's been exactly two years since that first day back at Toccoa," Claire noted. "Lot's changed in two years."

"I'll say," Lew agreed. He held out a flask to her. Claire shrugged and took a swing. She handed it back to him.

"I mean look at us, first time we met, I didn't have a shirt on," she laughed.

"An image that will always be seared into my brain," he replied. "Not that I'm complaining."

"Of course you're not."

"You know, I didn't think you'd make it this far," Lew admitted.

"You, and everyone else," she countered. "Made four hundred bucks off the pool they had goin' since _no one_ thought I'd make it."

"Jesus."

"I gave the money back," she added.

"Why?"

"I wasn't gonna, Hell, thought I'd earned it…"

"Which you did," he interrupted.

"Not the point. These men, they volunteered to jump out of goddamn airplanes into enemy fire. Dick was right when he told Buck off for gamblin' with them. We can't take from them," she explained. "Not when they're about to sacrifice so much."

"Christ, you're becoming more like Dick every day," Lew said.

"Ain't such a bad thing, is it?" Claire asked.

"Guess not," he replied. "Just promise you won't stop being you."

"Don't worry Lew, I'm still the same swearin', angry, stubborn as hell Cajun," she replied.

"Good, because I gotta admit, you grew on me, Rousseau," he said. "So, does that mean you're going to give me my money back from cards?"

Claire snorted.

"Yeah, didn't think so."

Lew handed her the flask again. Claire took a swig from it. "I asked Colonel Sink if he knew about the other nurses that were chosen, like me… there were five of us. Only two others made it through basic. I knew about one, she joined the Marines and was at Guadalcanal. The other is with Infantry somewhere in the Pacific. The other two were sent back to The Nurses Corps."

"And they didn't even have Sobel to deal with," Lew joked.

"Despite him bein' a total and complete asshole, I don't think I woulda made it without him," she countered. "I passed basic trainin' partly just to spite him."

"Yeah, that sounds like you."

"I didn't even think twice about joinin' up when they gave me the choice," Claire explained. "I didn't need to. It's funny, none of them thought I'd accept. Or if I did, they thought I would fail and that would be proof that women shouldn't be on the front."

She was rambling, and she knew it. Anything to try and keep her mind off of what was to come.

"Hey, if you're the one who saves my ass one day, I don't care if you're a woman," Lew stated.

"Are you afraid?" Claire asked. "I didn't think I would be. I've never been afraid of dyin'. I've seen enough death in my life to know that it comes for everyone, don't matter when. But now that it's lookin' like a possibility, I gotta admit, I'm scared."

She took another drink.

"If you weren't, I'd tell you you're a… What's that word you always called Sobel when you didn't want anyone to know that he was an idiot?" Lew asked.

"Couillon," she answered as she handed Lew back his flask.

"Right, that's it… I'd tell you you're a _cou-yawn_ ," he tried to imitate Claire's Cajun drawl. Claire rolled her eyes. "I'm scared. We're all scared. How the Hell couldn't you be?"

Claire didn't have anything else to say. Everyone gets scared, but that fear cannot stop her from doing her job. She'd come this far, she needed to see this through. Rousseau's do not quit.

* * *

 _June 4_ _th_ _1944_

Claire and the rest of the Airborne were preparing to fly out. D-Day had arrived. Claire was packing up all her medical supplies, along with everything else. There was a mix of excitement and anxiety in the air. Claire and Gene went over everything on their lists. Around her, men were praying, carrying supplies to the planes, even Liebgott was cutting men's hair into Mohawks. Doing anything to get themselves mentally prepared for the upcoming invasion.

The Army had sprung on a new leg bag on them. They had never trained with it and it was only held by a rope strapped to her leg. Claire made sure to spread out the supplies somewhat evenly. She had to keep feminine hygiene products in her pack, since that was one of the main things she could not live without. It wasn't a luxury; it was a necessity. They were only supposed to go for three days, but unfortunately it wasn't always predictable. Her leg bag was used mostly for whatever she couldn't fit in the other packs.

She reached into her pocket and pulled out the medallion. Claire put it around her neck, and felt somewhat better.

"Colonel Sink," Vest said as he walked by and handed both Eugene and Claire a telegram.

Claire looked down and read the words out loud. "Soldiers of the regiment, tonight is the night of nights. Today as you read this, you will be en route to the great adventure to which you've been preparing for the last two years."

She shared a look with Gene. They spread the black charcoal on their faces. It was so they could be concealed in the darkness. She gave him a small reassuring smile. They were on separate planes. Eugene was with Dick, while Claire was with Buck and Lipton.

It was nearly time to go… Or so they thought. Lieutenant Meehan beckoned Easy Company over. Claire stood by Malarkey, Guarnere, and Luz. Lieutenant Meehan told them that the conditions around the drop zone made it impossible for them to jump. The invasion was postponed for twenty-four hours.

* * *

Claire sat in the crowded room full of quiet, distracted soldiers. There was a movie playing, though Claire wasn't listening. She was sitting three seats down from Guarnere and next to Muck, Penkala, and Malarkey. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him pull out a piece of paper from his pocket.

She'd been ready to go earlier, and now sitting in this room, all she could think about was what could happen. The unknowing was the worst part. Looking around at the men, she wondered which ones she would have to treat, or which ones wouldn't make it.

Claire noticed Guarnere get up and walk out. He'd had a troubled look on his face. Out of concern, Claire followed him out. She saw him walk right out of the tent. He was standing off to the side when she found him.

"Guarnere?" She called. "Bill? You alright?"

He stayed quiet for a moment.

"You ever lose anybody, Russ?" He finally asked.

 _I've lost everyone._ Only she didn't say it.

"Yeah," she answered vaguely. "Bill… what happened?"

He didn't say anything. He simply handed her the piece of paper. Claire read the letter from Johnny Martin's wife where she revealed that Bill's brother in Italy was killed in Monte Cassino.

"Bill…"

"I don't even know where Monte Cassino is."

Claire wasn't sure what to do. She knew what he was going through. Nothing she could say would lessen his pain. Instead of speaking, Claire pulled out the pack of smokes from her breast pocket and offered one to him. Bill took one and lit it. Claire took out one for herself, brought it to her lips and lit it.

"Ain't even the finding out that hurts the most," she finally said after taking a long drag from her cigarette. "It's knowing that there's nothing you coulda done to help 'em. At least… that's what I felt when I got the telegram."

Bill looked at her oddly.

"My brother, James, was killed at Pearl Harbor," she told him.

"Didn't know you had a brother," Guarnere spoke.

"Don't like to talk about it," she shrugged and inhaled the nicotine. "Hurts too much." Claire didn't like talking about her dead family. "For what it's worth, and I know it ain't much, I'm sorry about your brother, Bill."

"I'm sorry about yours."

* * *

 _June 5_ _th_ _1944_

They were back at it again, this time there would be no cancelling the jump. The channel coast was clear, meaning they would be jumping tonight. This time, they didn't need to pack their bags because everything was still packed from the day before. She helped Eugene get into his harness and then he helped her. The black charcoal was smeared across her face again.

Claire and Eugene swung by the medical tent and picked up the air sickness pills they had to give out. They walked in silence, neither of them knowing what to say since it may be the last time they see each other.

"Lieutenant… Claire," he finally said something. Gene only called her by her first name when it was just the two of them.

"Yeah, Gene?"

"I just wanted to say… I'm glad you didn't wash out," he told her.

"I'll see you at the assembly area," she told him before holding her hand out and he shook it. "Good luck, Gene."

"Good luck," he replied and they separated. Claire looked over her shoulder and got one last look at Eugene.

 _God, if you're listening, you keep him safe. You keep them all safe._

Along the way, Claire wished good luck to all of the men. She saw Lew across the way talking to Harry and Dick. She waved at all three of them and saluted before heading off to her group. In her plane was part of first platoon: Buck, Lip, Luz, Cobb, Sisk, Popeye Wynn, Liebgott, Robbins, Christenson, Alley, Penkala, Stevens, Morris, Samson, Winston, Rossi, Wade, Ramirez, Van Klinken, and herself. There were twenty.

"Gentlemen, Lieutenant Rousseau is handing out pills for airsickness," Buck instructed. "Orders are to take one now and one thirty minutes in the air."

Claire handed them each a pack, ending with Lipton and Buck at the front. "Good luck. I'll see you in the assembly area."

And just like that, they were climbing in the plane. Claire shook the hand of every man and wished them luck as they climbed up the ladder.

"Good luck," she told Lip.

"See you down there."

Claire then climbed up in the plane. She took her seat opposite the door next to Christenson. She took her airsickness pill and sat back. The plane engines roared to life as it slowly began to move.

This was it, Claire Rousseau was about to jump into war.

Look out Hitler, the Airborne is coming.

* * *

 **Hope you enjoyed it! Now we're getting into the nitty gritty of the war. Please let me know what you thought.**


	4. Day of Days

The plane ride felt endless. The nerves knotted in the pit of her stomach. To distract herself, Claire did what she normally did and started explaining how to make the body work.

 _There are five vital organs in the human body: the heart, the brain, the liver, kidneys, and lungs. Without them, there is no chance of survival._

 _The main difference when treating an arterial bleed and a vein bleed is the amount of blood. Arteries squirt out blood and must be treated right away, however, the chances of stopping the bleeding are highly unlikely and the patient will most likely die._

 _When treating a severed limb, the important thing to do is stop the bleeding. Keep the stump elevated and keep pressure in order to properly bandage it._

 _When administering morphine, never give more than two syrettes or else the patient will most likely overdose. Be sure to pin the empty syrettes to the soldier's jacket so the doctors know how much has been given._

It continued on like that. She had her eyes closed and was trying to remember every little detail she'd learnt. Her eyes opened when she heard Buck tell them to stand up. Claire got up on feet.

"Hook up!" Buck yelled over the loud rumbling of the engines.

Claire hooked herself up to the cord. The bright red jump light shined brightly in the dark plane. She stood behind Lipton, she'd be the third one out.

"Equipment check!" Buck ordered. Claire checked to make sure Lip's equipment was properly ready to jump. She checked her own helmet and the front of her equipment. "Sound off for equipment check!"

"Ten okay!"

"Nine okay!"

"Eight okay!"

"Seven okay!"

"Six okay!"

"Five okay!"

"Four okay!" She heard Cobb yell in her ear and tapped her shoulder.

"Three okay!" She yelled and tapped Lip.

"Two okay!" He yelled.

"One okay!" Buck finished.

Claire looked over the out the open door. Almost like a wall, as soon as they cleared the clouds, there was fire and the sound of bullets cutting through the air. The plane jerked to the right causing Claire to stumble to the side. She pulled herself back up.

"Jesus Christ! Let's go! Let's go!" Sisk yelled fearfully from behind her.

"Does that light look green to you?!" Lip yelled back. Suddenly, the side of the plane was grazed, sending metal shards flying in.

"I'm hit!" Cobb cried out in pain.

"Shit!" Claire cursed. She unclipped herself from the wire and unclipped Cobb and pushed them to the side that hadn't been hit and sat him towards the back. His entire left side was covered with bits of shrapnel; he'd live but there was no way he could jump without causing more damage.

The light changed to green and suddenly the soldiers were jumping out the door.

"Lieutenant Rousseau!" Lipton yelled. He was the push man which meant he'd be last off.

"Cobb, you are not jumping!" Claire told him.

"Ma'am I wanna jump!" Cobb yelled over the noise.

"No! You are stayin' on this plane!"

"Ma'am," he protested.

"You jump off this plane Cobb, the Krauts won't need to kill you! You'll be dead before you hit the ground! You are _stayin'_ on this fuckin' plane!" She yelled.

"Lieutenant Rousseau!" Lipton yelled for her again. Claire got up and hooked herself back up.

"He's okay! Jump!" Claire ordered and then Lip was out the door. Claire walked back to the front of the plane and stood at the doorway for a split second before leaping out.

 _1000, 2000, 3000, 4000…_ she moved her hands off the reserve chute.

The shock of the fall was enough to rip Claire's leg bag off of her. _FUCK!_ She cursed thinking of how much medical supplies she'd just lost, on top of her K-rations. Claire looked down to see one of their planes on fire on the ground.

 _Can't think about it._

The prop blast blew her chute way off course. She tried to direct herself but was failing. This time, Claire didn't feel like a bird, she felt like a person crashing to her death. The sound of bullets tore through the air.

 _Please, please, please, let me make it to the ground._

The only thing lighting her way was the fire, the explosions and the machine gun fire. Claire was falling faster towards the ground. Wait, not the ground… it was water.

"FU-" She started to cursed as she landed in the river, the water going over her head.

 _Merde!_ Claire struggled with keeping her head above the water, but her chute and the heavy bags of equipment made it hard to move. Claire ripped off her helmet to try and get off some of the weight. She slipped back under the water and swallowed a mouthful of water.

Claire slipped under the water again, the exhaustion overwhelming her.

 _Not like this. Not after everything!_

She had to get out of her chute. She pushed herself back up to the top and took a deep breath before the current pulled her back under. Claire remembered the knife strapped to her ankle. She pulled it out and then pushed herself back up to the top, suddenly very thankful for all those times James used to push her under the water at the swimming hole not far from their property. He made her stronger. Claire cut herself out of the chute. It wasn't enough, her bags were weighing her down. She cut them off and they sank.

Once Claire was free, she swam towards the shallow swampy part. She laid down on her side to catch her breath. Claire hacked out the water from her lungs. All she had left was her musette bag that had basic first aid supplies. She remained crouched in the long grass. There were a lot of flooded fields in Normandy, she could be in any one of them.

In the distance, Claire could hear footsteps and talking. Only, they weren't speaking English. It was German.

 _Shit_ , Claire cursed once more before starting to run through the marsh. The sound of gunshots being fired at her made her want to drop on the ground and take cover, but she couldn't do that. Instead, Claire weaved through the long grass dodging bullets. The adrenaline coursed through her veins.

There was a sharp pain in her arm. Claire cursed once more, but kept running. She couldn't stop. All she had was a knife to defend herself. Just because she was protected under the Geneva Convention, didn't mean the Germans wouldn't still kill her by 'accident'.

Once Claire was clear of the swamp, she found herself by the woods. The footsteps were still hot on her trail. She dipped into the woods and weaved through the trees. More shots rang out, one of them flying right by her head and burying itself into the tree in front of her. The shock of that was enough to send Claire soaring forward. She landed with a hard thud on the ground, the wind knocking out of her.

She could hear German voices only a few feet away. She was petrified to even turn around.

" _Diesen weg_!"

 _Dammit._ She was going to die.

More shots rang out, but they weren't directed at Claire. She picked herself up off the ground. Two outlines were coming towards her. She reached in her pocket and went to pull out the clicker, only to see that she's lost it.

"Flash?" Claire called out in a loud whisper gripping her knife tightly.

"Thunder," two familiar voices replied. Claire sighed in relief.

"Russ, that you?" They came closer and Claire recognized them as Muck and Luz.

"Boy, am I glad to see you idiots," she told them with a large smile on her face.

The pain in Claire's arm made her groan. She was soaking wet and in pain.

"You get hit?" Luz asked. Claire looked at her right arm and saw some blood staining her jacket.

"Huh, yeah, guess I did," she said. She took off the side bag and used her knife to cut through her jacket and her shirt underneath. "Light?" Claire asked.

Luz pulled out his lighter and brought the light towards her wound. "Graze."

Claire reached into her pack and grabbed a package of sulfa, she poured it on the wound and then pulled out a bandage. Her adrenaline was still running high. She could hardly feel the pain in her arm. "Muck, tie this around the wound like I showed you back in training." She ordered. "Anybody know where we are?"

Muck tied the bandage around her arm.

"Saw a sign for La Fière about twenty minutes back that way," Luz explained.

"Okay, we gotta move," Claire urged. They couldn't stay in one place very long. "We gotta get to Sainte-Marie-du-Mont. Any of you got your map?"

"Yeah, yeah," Luz said as he pulled out his map.

"Flashlight? Compass?" Claire asked. Muck grabbed his.

"Where's the rest of your stuff?" Muck asked.

"Bottom of the swamp over there where I landed," she pointed the way she came. Claire briefly noticed her medallion was still around her neck. "Been a rough night."

"Skip, keep look out," Luz told him. "We kept off the road so I'm pretty sure we're about… here."

While he did that, Claire and Luz figured out where they were going. La Fière was approximately seven kilometers away from Sainte-Marie-du-Mont.

"Got a lot of walking ahead of us," Luz said as he folded up the map and tucked it in his pack. Claire gave Muck back his compass and flashlight. This was going to be a long night.

The plan was to stay close to the water until they reached Chef-du-Pont. From there, it was pretty much a straight shot to Sainte-Marie-du-Mont.

"How's Cobb?" Luz asked after a while.

"Fine… well, he'll make it if the plane got back to England," Claire spoke quietly. "I didn't let him jump. He would definitely be dead if I had."

"What happened to Cobb?" Muck asked.

"Got hit in the plane," Luz explained.

"We were lucky; you see the ones that went down?" Muck asked. "FUBAR."

Claire thought about the orange fire. Seeing Muck was a relief, it meant that his plane, which had Eugene, Guarnere, Dick, and a number of other men she cared about made it out of the plane. She wouldn't know if they were alive until they got to the assembly area.

Muck told her how he'd landed beside the water, not in it like her, and he started moving and found Luz not long before they came across the three Germans chasing Claire.

By the time they made it to Chef-du-Pont, the sun was shining brightly.

"Shit," she cursed, this complicates things. "We gotta go 'round."

She could see a few soldiers in the town. They couldn't risk getting seen, especially since there were so few of them and Claire didn't carry. The men agreed. They went back and dipped around towards Sainte-Mère-Église. This added an extra few hours to their trip.

Their detour brought them into the French countryside, which Claire admitted was absolutely beautiful. Despite the natural beauty, the horrors of war were everywhere. No matter where they went, they saw dead paratroopers. She looked at the faces, praying they wouldn't be ones she recognized.

They were just on the outskirts of Saint-Mère-Église when they stumbled upon an abandoned house. It was one of those fancy French ones with large windows. Claire saw a white silk parachute dangling from a shattered window. She looked over at Luz and Muck who were both looking at the chute.

"Should we take a look?" Luz asked.

"Yeah. Even if we don't find anything, we need supplies," she answered.

"Okay," Muck agreed. Cautiously they walked towards the house. The men raised their rifles.

"Russ, stay behind us," Luz told her.

She obliged without a fight because she didn't have a weapon besides her knife. When they got inside, all their months of training kicked in. Muck went to clear the bottom floor while Claire and Luz went to clear the top. She heard a very low moan of pain coming the room on the right.

"Flash?" Luz asked when they got to the room.

"Thunder," they heard the pain-filled response from the other side.

Claire took that as her cue to go in. Lying on the ground with a pool of blood around him and shards of glass from the broken window was James 'Moe' Alley.

Claire immediately set off to work. "Hey, Alley," she greeted.

She reached into her musette bag and pulled out tweezers and bandages. She didn't have nearly enough. He had a large gash in his thigh and more bits of glass covered his body. Her priority at the moment was his leg.

"Luz, give me your kit and get Muck's too," she ordered. Luz nodded before heading to go find Muck. "Alright, I'm gonna take a look at that leg, alright? It might hurt a bit but I need you to stay quiet, okay?"

Alley's dark eyes met hers and he nodded. The cut was deep, but it didn't hit the artery, which was a damn miracle in her eyes. Still, he'd lost quite a bit of blood. The plasma she had was now at the bottom of the swamp where she landed.

All Claire could do at this point was apply a tourniquet and bandage up his leg before moving on to the glass. Clair reached in her bag and pulled out her only leather strap tourniquet and tied it at the top of Alley's thigh. He groaned in pain.

"Got the bandages," Luz told her. "Skip's keeping watch. What can I do to help?"

"I'm about to poke around his wounds to take some of the glass out. I need you to keep him still," she instructed.

Luz nodded and then went behind Alley and held him. Claire took the tweezers and began to pick out the larger bits of glass. Alley groaned in pain as she worked.

"Okay, Alley, I got out as much as I can here," she explained. "Okay, I just need you to relax for a few minutes. Luz, a word."

Luz followed her out of the room. They walked down the hall and down where Muck was.

"The two of you need to get out of here," she told him once they were with Muck. "Get to the rally point, I'll stay here with Alley."

"Like Hell. We're not leaving you," Luz objected.

"Luz can you try to get someone on your radio?" Muck asked.

Luz shook his head. "Got damaged in the jump."

 _Dammit._

"Alley's gonna slow us down," she whispered. "And I'm not leaving him behind."

"Russ, we aren't leaving either of you," Muck told her.

"I could order you to leave," she told them.

"And you honestly think we're gonna listen?" Muck asked. "You stay, we stay. But in the interest of not getting shot or nabbed by Krauts, I say we make a run for it."

Claire was torn between being furious and being touched.

"How far are we from the the rally point?" Claire asked.

"I'd say probably about seven kilometers," Luz deduced.

"Then we oughta get a move on," she told them.

Claire was annoyed. This was stupid. It was her job to stay with Alley. Luz and Muck should be long gone. Now they were about to walk seven kilometers behind enemy lines with a wounded Alley.

Claire had patched up Alley as best she could. She made a splint for his leg out of two long pieces of wood and strips from his parachute to keep it steady. The leg wasn't broken but by how deep the cut was; Claire knew there would be damage to the muscle. She didn't want to make it any worse by having the leg loose. She threw his pack on her back and slung his M1 on his back. Alley was somewhat attentive.

"Alley, we're going lift you up, now okay? I want you to lean on me like a crutch," she explained. Alley nodded and Claire and Muck helped him up.

Alley groaned in pain as they lifted him to his feet.

Claire's muscles cried out as they slowly walked off the road away from Saint-Mère-Église. _Come on, you can do this._

Alley grunted in pain with every step. They had to take short but frequent breaks. Luz and Muck swapped out who helped her carry him. Claire's arm started to throb, but she pushed past the pain. Alley needed her.

Eventually, they found the train tracks that would be pretty much a direct shot to Saint-Marie-du-Mont. They were still six kilometers away. What should've been a few hours took much longer because they had to keep stopping. She thought about giving him morphine, but then he'd be dead weight.

"We're almost there, Alley," she encouraged. "Just a little bit longer."

They managed to stay out of sight of any Germans by ducking down off the path. Or so they thought. Ahead of them, Claire heard the Germans before she saw them. It was a patrol coming towards them.

"Duck, duck," Luz said as Muck and Claire got Alley off the track and into the woods.

Claire hid in the brush with the other three. She had Alley laid on his back. Muck and Luz were kneeling, rifles raised as a group of five Krauts appeared on the track. Claire slipped off Alley's rifle and held it up. The rifle felt wrong in her hands. She hadn't held one since Toccoa.

If they kept quiet, the Krauts would continue on their way and they could get enough distance. But of course, that's not how it went. Alley let out low grunt. Claire's eyes widened in horror as the Krauts stopped and looked directly their way. She quickly covered Alley's mouth.

Before they could do anything, Luz pulled the trigger. Muck joined in the firefight. Soon, all of them were on the ground. It was quick, brutal, but they'd succeeded.

"Stay here," Luz told her. Claire could only nod. Luz and Muck got up and left the safety of the brush. They were going to make sure the Krauts were actually dead.

"If all the jerries fight like this, we actually have a shot of winning this whole damn war," Luz joked.

For a second, Claire relaxed. Muck gave her the all clear sign just as Luz was bending over to loot. Next thing she knew; Luz was on his back with a large German soldier on top of him. She heard Muck curse as his M1 jammed. She looked down and remembered she still had Alley's rifle in hand. Claire aimed the rifle and aimed for his thigh. Her shot didn't hit him in the thigh, but rather his chest.

The German soldier rolled off the track. Claire's ears were ringing. She killed a human being. She promised to help soldiers, but she'd killed instead.

"Luz?" Muck's voice pulled her out of her daze.

"Jesus Christ," Luz cursed as he stood up from the track. Claire dropped the rifle and went back over to Alley. His eyes were wide and attentive.

"Think you can go a bit longer?" She asked.

Alley nodded. "I can do it."

"Okay," Claire said as she reached down and put his arm around her shoulder. Her arms wrapped around him and she lifted him up. With his good leg, he pushed himself up off the ground. They slowly got out of the bushes and up to the track.

"You two okay?" Muck asked when they came in view.

"Yeah, Luz, you okay?" Claire asked. She tried to ignore the blood that stained his uniform.

"Yeah, I'm good. Nice shot, Russ," he replied.

"I was aiming for his leg," she admitted. The three soldiers looked at her. "What? I passed rifle training. I never said I was any good."

"Remind me not to get on your bad side. You could try to shoot me in the arm and hit my head by mistake," Luz joked.

Claire rolled her eyes.

"C'mon, we gotta keep movin'. Still got a ways to go," she told them. Claire had killed someone. She'd come here to help people, but instead she killed. Except, she did save Luz and Muck, that she could live with. It was war, and the Krauts would've killed them if they hadn't first.

About an hour and a half later, they still had five kilometers to go. They managed to avoid German patrols by hiding. Claire always covered Alley's mouth as to not have a repeat of the last time. They'd been lucky that it was only a small patrol.

"We've gotta stop," Claire said when she saw Alley's head lolling. They couldn't keep this up for long. They walked off the side off the tracks. Claire and Luz sat Alley up against a tree.

He'd bled through another bandage on his leg and the one on each of his arms too. They couldn't keep carrying him. Claire looked at her own arm and noticed it had bled through the bandage. That wasn't her priority at the moment.

"We can't keep going like this," Claire whispered to Muck and Luz while Alley laid up against the tree.

"Then what can we do?" Luz asked. She thought about it for a moment.

"The farm back there, you and Muck go find a cart or a wheelbarrow or anything we can use to move him," Claire ordered.

"Russ, we're not leaving you here alone," Muck countered.

"It's either we do this now or we stay _stuck_ here. Or, you and Luz go and fight the war, I stay here with Alley and take a chance on whoever comes up that trail next. Those are our options," she told them. "And I like the option where I don't get captured or killed best."

They looked at her for a moment before they agreed. They said they would be back in fifteen minutes.

Claire huffed and went back to Alley. He was awake.

"Hey, Alley, how's it going?" She asked him.

"Been better. Thanks for not leaving me Doc," he answered.

She gave him a small smile. "Never. We stand alone together, right?"

"It hurts, Lieutenant," he told her. He had pieces of glass poking in his skin and a large and deep bleeding gash on his leg, of course it hurt.

"Okay," she said. She took out the morphine from inside her bag and removed the syrette from the box. She bit off the lid and then stabbed it into his arm and pushed the morphine. She should've done it a long time ago but she didn't want him to be dead weight.

Every single sound made Claire jump out of her skin. She kept thinking another German patrol would stumble across them. She didn't have the M1 anymore. She'd accidentally left it behind after she shot the German soldier. Alley had passed out a little bit before. She heard a branch snapping. The sun faded on the horizon.

"Flash?" She said the call sign.

"Thunder," she heard Luz answer.

"Thank God. You find anything?" She asked.

"Yeah," Luz answered. Muck came up pulling a cart. "Think that'll work?"

"Oh yeah, that'll work just fine."

Muck and Claire loaded Alley up into the cart. Muck and Luz were going to alternate pulling with Claire while the other took point. They were moving now.

By the time night fell, they were just outside Les Forges. A sense of relief dawned on them. They were close. Luz motioned for them to crouch down. Luz took out the little toy noise maker. He clicked it once, the sound of crickets echoed. They waited for the reply, and it came in the form of two clicks. Claire sighed in relief as shuffling came from the brush.

They saw it was Randleman, Christenson, and Robbins. Claire had never been more relieved to see them.

"Luz? That you?"

"Yeah, me, Skip, Russ, and Moe's in the cart" he answered.

"Am I ever glad to see you guys," Randleman said as they reunited.

"What happened to Moe?" Robbins asked.

"Landed on broken glass," she explained. "We oughta get goin'. Sainte-Marie-du-Mont's about two hours away."

As they walked off the beaten path, Randleman and Muck took the lead. Christenson took over pulling the cart for Claire. Her wounded arm was still bleeding, though not as much.

They walked in silence. She felt better knowing that more of Easy had made it. For the first time since landing, Claire let herself think of Eugene, Lew, Dick, Bill, Joe Toye, Malarkey Lip, Buck, all the men she still didn't know their fates. She wondered if she'd ever hear one of Gordon's stupid poems again.

 _Dammit, Claire, stop._

She was here to do her job. That's it. She wasn't here to start caring about people or to make friends, especially when one of these days she might be the one having to piece them back together.

* * *

After what seemed like forever, they passed the sign for Sainte-Marie-du-Mont. They'd made it. Soldiers, jeeps, and civilians were walking down the streets. Claire called for two soldiers to take Alley to the aid station when she saw a few familiar faces coming towards them.

"Well look who it is," Liebgott said. "Nice of you to show up."

Claire noticed it was him, Guarnere, Toye, Buck, Malarkey, Martin, More, and Lip.

"Hey, what'd we miss?" Luz spoke up.

Claire felt calmed at seeing them, still there were a few key faces missing.

"Russ, nice seeing you," Guarnere said as he clapped her on the shoulder. Of course it had to be the one on her bad side. A sharp pain shot through her arm, causing her to flinch.

"Nice seeing you too, Bill," she said, pushing the pain away. "Lieutenant Winters and Lieutenant Nixon make it?"

"Yeah, they're somewhere over there," Bill pointed. Claire sighed in relief.

"Doc Roe?" She asked.

"Yeah, he's over at the aid station," he told her. "The fuck happen to you?"

"I'm okay," she assured. "You okay, Bill?"

He must've guessed what she was referring too. "Yeah, I'm good."

"Good," she told him. "I'm gonna go find Doc. If you see Lieutenant Winters or Nixon…"

"We'll let 'em know," Bill assured.

Claire walked through the camp to the aid station. There, she saw Eugene standing outside ringing out some bandages.

"Ain't you a sight for sore eyes," she called out to him. His head shot up at the sound of her voice.

"Claire?" He asked.

"You know any other woman on the line?" Claire asked. She walked over to Eugene and pulled him into a hug.

"What happened?" He asked upon seeing the bandage wrapped around her arm.

"Kraut shot at me, graze. No muscle tear, or hit the bone. Barely a flesh wound," she listed. "I'm fine."

"Still bleeding," Gene pointed out.

"I'll bandage it for the time being," she said. "I'm okay."

Gene looked like he wanted to say something, but Claire cut him off before he could.

"Now, let's get to work."

The inside of the aid station was a sight. Claire quickly adjusted to the putrid smell of searing flesh, and set off to work. Her hands quickly stained with blood as more men kept being brought in, not everyone was as lucky as Claire, Luz, Alley, and Muck had been at avoiding the Germans.

She spent eight hours in the aid station hard at work. She picked out the broken glass from Alley's wounds. She couldn't stop, otherwise she probably would've collapsed from exhaustion. This was the sort of thing she was used to while working in the hospital. She had shifts that were as long as twenty hours of continuous work. She'd get home and fall asleep for a few hours before going at doing it all over again. There were times when Claire worked forty hours straight because one of the other nurses was sick. She never objected, she liked the work.

The kind of injuries she was seeing, however, she'd never seen anything like it before. Working in the emergency room, Claire had witnessed some terrible things, but nothing compared to the men in the aid station. She got her wound stitched up and then kept working.

She hadn't eaten, slept, or stopped moving for over twenty-four hours. It was Dick, who was now Company CO since Lieutenant Meehan was MIA, that came and grabbed her. She was currently working on dressing a man from Dog Company's severed leg. It got blown off by a mortar hit not far from where they were. The poor kid had passed out only a few minutes before.

"Claire," he spoke. She kept working. "Claire, go get some rest. And some food."

"I'm almost done," she objected.

"Pass it off to another medic. That's an order."

"Yes, sir," she replied and handed off the bandages to someone else. Claire followed Dick out of the tent.

"How was your jump?" He asked when they cleared the aid station.

"Almost drowned," she answered. "I landed in a river not far from La Fière …"

She could still feel the water rushing over her head and dragging her down to the bottom. The fear and adrenaline pounding through her veins as she sprinted for her life.

"How was yours?"

"Landed near Sainte-Mère-Église. I found a kid from Able company then we found Lipton and a couple men from the 82nd. Then we found Toye, Guarnere, Popeye, and Malarkey," Dick explained.

"So not nearly as eventful mine," Claire made light of the situation. "I heard Lieutenant Meehan's still missin'."

"Yeah he is," Dick answered.

"Guess that makes you the man in charge," she replied. She yawned, it finally hit her just how exhausted she was.

Claire wound up finding the other men sitting by a Great War memorial monument. She laid her back on it.

"Finally lettin' you have a break, huh Russ," Guarnere said once she sat down.

"All in a days' work, Bill."

"How's Alley?" Luz asked.

"Finally got all the glass out. He's fine," Claire answered.

"Hey Doc, while you're here, might wanna check Malark for brain damage," Toye joked. "Hear what he did at Brecourt?"

"No?" Claire eyes Malarkey suspiciously. She'd heard about Brécourt from Popeye, who'd been shot in the ass, at the aid station. He avoided her gaze.

"Stupid Mick ran out in the middle of a fight to check the Krauts for a Luger," Guarnere explained. Claire looked at Malarkey in disbelief.

"You did _what_?"

"Momentary lapse of judgement," Malarkey defended.

"Couillon," she scolded.

"The Hell's that mean?" Malarkey asked.

"Means you're an idiot," she replied. "Don't do that shit again."

"Duly noted, definitely not doing that again," he said.

"Didn't you used to call Sobel that?" Luz recalled.

"And was I wrong?" she asked. No one said anything to counter. "That's what I thought. Now, if you boys don't mind, I'mma get some sleep. Wake me up in an hour." She told the last bit to Liebgott.

Then, Claire drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

 **Thank you to everyone who reviewed! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. For anyone who is curious about Eleanor Thomson, I'm currently working on her story now. Please let me know what you thought!**


	5. Fear

"Claire, time to wake up," someone was shaking her awake.

By the time Claire woke up it was broad daylight. Her neck was stiff, but she felt rested. Wait… it was dark when she went to sleep.

"How long have I been out?" She asked groggily. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and saw Lew staring down at her.

"Uh… probably 'bout two hours?" He said looking down at his watch.

Claire sat up at attention. "I told Liebgott to wake me up."

"I know, but I told him to let you sleep," Lew countered.

"Why the hell would you do that?"

"'Cause you just so damn cute when you sleep," he joked. Claire glared. "Nah, you needed it. Also brought you this." He handed her a k-ration. "Luz told me you lost all yours."

"Don't you have a job to do?" Claire asked.

"Yes, I do," he told her and gave her the can. "Eat up, we need you back at the aid station."

Claire smiled gratefully.

"Oh, and Claire, good to see you," he told her.

"Nice to see you too, Lew," she replied.

Once she finished eating the mush she could barely call food and made her way back to the aid station.

* * *

On D-Day plus two, they were going to take the town of Carentan. The previous day, they took some of the towns around St-Marie-du-Mont. There were a few casualties, but not many. A few more Easy Company men, including Talbot, Shifty Powers, Gordon, and the ever quiet Albert Blithe, arrived. She had her supplies replenished since hers were all gone. She got a new helmet, she didn't want to think about where it came from. _One size fits all._ She also got the final all clear for her arm, something she could've and had told them herself. Her arm barely hurt anymore.

Gene and Claire walked back towards Easy Company from the Aid Station, they were able to start evacuating soldiers now to the field hospitals.

"Easy company! On the road!" Claire heard Harry order.

"Gene, hang with second platoon, I'll go with first," she ordered.

"Sure thing, ma'am," he agreed before heading off to second platoon.

Claire walked towards first platoon.

"It'll be dark soon. I want light and noise discipline from here on. That means, no talking, no smoking, and no playing grab fanny with the man in front of you, Luz," Harry ordered.

"Where are we going, Lieutenant?" One of the soldiers asked.

"We're taking Carentan."

"That sounds like fun," Perconte said sarcastically. She was glad to see he'd made it too.

"It's the one place where Omaha and Utah can link up. Until we take Carentan, our boys are stuck on the sand," Harry explained. "General Taylor's sending the whole division."

Claire liked General Lee better, but he had a heart attack and retired.

"Remember boys, give me three days and three nights of hard fightin' and you will be relieved," Luz said in a spot on impression of General Taylor.

Even Claire couldn't keep herself from laughing.

"Lieutenant, I'll take point," Hoobler volunteered.

"Corporal Hoobler is lead," Harry said. "Blithe, glad you could join us."

"Thank you, sir," Blithe said in a low voice.

"First Platoon, fall in behind Fox company. Second and Third Platoons follow us. Shake a leg," Harry ordered.

"Another thing to remember boys: flies spread disease, so keep yours closed," Luz continued his impression.

"Shut up, Luz…" a soldier behind her said.

Claire was walking side by side with Luz. They were walking through the flooded fields, bodies of both American and German soldiers littered the ground. The fire on the other side of fields made the water look blazing. Looking over, she noticed a parachute in the water with a body face down. She couldn't help but think of how easily that could've been her.

Claire didn't look at the faces, fearing she'd recognize them. She saw the men dip down on the dead German soldiers and stripped them of their possessions. Luz bent down and rooted through a German's pockets.

"Find anythin'?" Claire asked.

"Meh, nothin' really," he said as he showed her the book he'd pulled out of the soldier's pocket.

Claire, curious, took it out of his hand. "Hm, might be a good read."

"Look at you, looting like the rest of us," Luz teased. Claire rolled her eyes.

"Not like he needs it anymore," she countered. After seeing all the wounded men, after getting shot by Krauts, she was having a hard time pitying them.

They stopped after a while, apparently, they lost Fox Company. Blithe and Hoobler went off to find them. They were standing in the brush, waiting for the idiots in Fox Company to be found. They crouched off to the side and waited.

"I don't like this, being out in the open…" Luz whispered to her.

"Me neither," she grumbled under her breath.

Luckily, they didn't have to wait long and soon they were back on the road and on their way to Carentan.

* * *

It took four hours for them to make it to Carentan. If it hadn't been for Fox Company, they would've made it with the cover of darkness. Claire and Eugene were in the back with Third Platoon. It was First who was moving right up the middle followed by Second and Third. However, once the German bullets started flying, they all dove into the ditch on the side.

They had to move out of there fast. Luz and Harry were the only ones that kept running. Now, they were pinned inside.

"GO! GO!" Dick urged as he stood in the middle of the road. Around her, the men were slowly getting out to the trenches and running through the fields.

Claire's heart pounded as she crawled out of the trench and started running as fast as she could, bullets flying past her and hitting the ground at her feet.

"Medic!" Claire heard the call. She sprinted until she saw the bleeding man on the ground.

"Pull him back!" It was Lip saying it. Claire grabbed the soldier by the collar and began to pull him towards the others who had taken cover on the wall.

The soldier was crying out in pain as Claire tried to gently roll him onto his side. She looked and saw another hole. Straight through and through. The soldier, she thought his name was Weir, barely looked older than twenty. Claire pulled out two bandages and quickly applied pressure on the wound and tied the first bandage around the front and the covered the hole in the back. She grabbed a syrette out of her pocket and quickly injected it into his arm. She pinned it to his jacket.

"You're gonna be okay," Claire told him, but she doubted he heard over the sounds of bullets and explosions around them. There was no one around to help her. They'd moved into town. She had to move now. "Alright, Weir, this might hurt."

She lifted him up and he cried out in pain as she put him over her shoulders like a sack of potatoes. She was suddenly very grateful for all the push ups, chin-ups, and anything to build her strength up. She was also thankful that Weir was a small man. He was shorter than her by a head.

She ran as fast as possible with a one hundred and fifteen-pound man on her shoulders. Her muscles groaned under the weight.

 _C'mon Claire, you can do this!_ She kept telling herself that as she pushed through and kept going. Adrenaline is a hell of a thing.

The Aid Station wasn't far from where Weir went down, the temporary one was set up in a building on the very edge of town. She got there and saw that it was already crawling with wounded.

"Over here!" One of the other medics ordered and he helped get Weir off of her shoulders, her muscles cried in relief.

"Shot, bullet entered just below the clavicle and exited below the shoulder," she explained to him. The medic looked at her for a moment, caught off guard by who she was. "Move!"

That seemed to snap him out of it.

She caught her breath for one second and saw that Weir was being handled by the other medics. Claire ran back out into the fight. She didn't even think twice as she ran through town, bullets ripping through the air.

"MEDIC!" Someone yelled. Claire sprinted towards the cry when she saw a soldier on the ground pressing his hand to his side. There were two bodies around him, their blood and guts sprawled on the ground. He was out in the wide open of the square.

Claire ran out to the man, it was Quinn from Second Platoon. She dropped to her knees and removed his hand from the wound. There was a wide gaping hole in his side from the shrapnel of an artillery blast. Claire grabbed the sulfa and poured it on the wound.

"They got us zeroed!" Claire could hear Lip yelling. "Spread it out! Move!"

Not even a second later, Claire heard the whistle of an artillery shell soaring through the air. It hit the ground twenty meters away. Claire dove on top of her patient to shield him with her own body from the blast and debris. Pieces of cement plunked against her helmet. She counted to two before going back up and to work. Quinn started coughing, a bit of blood dribbled from his mouth. _Fuck._ She pulled out a bandage and packed the wound as best she could. She administered a syrette of morphine and then pinned it to his jacket.

"C'mon, let's get you outta here," she told Quinn who was now barely conscious. "Stretcher!"

There was no one close enough to hear her call, she realized. Claire pulled him up so he was in a sitting position before wrapping her arms under his armpits and she started to drag him. Quinn was much too large for her to carry him alone.

Claire hadn't realized how far she'd gotten from the aid station. Or maybe it felt further because she was dragging a hundred and eighty pounds of dead weight. Her arms grew tired from dragging Quinn, but she didn't stop. A few times, Claire had to drop him and duck as bullets tore through the air.

"Russ!" She could hear someone calling to her. Claire kept pulling Quinn.

There was another shell blast down the street, where they had just been a few feet from where they had just been. Claire went flying back, her body slammed against the ground. Her ears rang. Her helmet had fallen off in the blast. She felt disoriented as everything around her moved in slow motion. There was blood, a lot of it. _Is it mine?_ She wasn't sure. She didn't think so because she wasn't in pain. She looked and saw that Quinn's lower half had been blown off. His intestines were strewn across the brick road.

"Russ!" The voice sounded distant. Suddenly, in front of her was Bill. Claire shook away her shock and snapped back into it. Claire pushed past Bill and went over to Quinn. His eyes were wide open, lifeless. His blood now stained her pants.

Bill pulled her back and started checking her for wounds. "Christ, you're one lucky broad," he told her. "Few cuts. Got some kinda angel lookin' over you."

Claire looked over at Quinn's destroyed body. _Lucky._

 _Don't dwell on it._

"Russ?" Guarnere questioned.

"I'm okay," she assured.

"MEDIC!" Someone nearby yelled. Claire got up and started running towards the cry, her head was a little sore but she shook it off.

It was Liebgott and Sisk carrying a very bloody Tipper. Claire ran over and took over for Sisk while they carried him to the aid station.

"Over there!" Claire ordered as they carried him over to the empty table. They laid him down. "What happened?"

"Mortar hit," Liebgott explained.

Tipper's legs were severely burnt, but her biggest concern was his right eye that had been blown to Hell. He was going to lose it. Claire reached into her pack and pulled out the sulfa. She gently sprinkled it on the right side of his face. Whatever shock he was in when he first got in, it wore off as he started crying out in agony. His one good eye was wide with fear.

"You're gonna be okay, Tipper. I got you," she comforted as she stuck him with a syrette of morphine. "You just hold on, okay?" He nodded slowly.

Claire dressed the eye and then moved onto the legs. She poured sulfa on them and then bandaged them up.

The battle of Carentan lasted maybe an hour at most. They were able to evacuate the wounded. Tipper and Weir were among the first to be evacuated. She saw that Lipton had been wounded and he was evacuated as well. When Claire was walking back towards the entrance to go out and see if anyone was still coming in, she noticed Albert Blithe standing there, looking white as a sheet. His blue eyes were unfocused. She stood in front of him but he made no move to acknowledge her.

"Private Blithe?" Claire questioned.

"Lieutenant Rousseau?" He sounded terrified.

"Blithe, what's the matter?" He didn't look wounded.

"I-I can't see ma'am," he told her.

"You can't see? Did you get something in your eyes?" Claire asked.

"No no… I was just… things just kinda went black on me," he told her in a shaky voice.

Claire started moving her finger from side to side. Blithe's eyes didn't move. If he was faking, he seemed to be doing a good job.

"Okay, why don't you come over here with me an' well get you settled in," she told him. Claire led him over to the wall and sat him down on the ground.

After sitting Blithe down, Claire went back to into the room.

"What happened to Blithe?" Gene asked when he saw her come back.

"He says he can't see," Claire explained.

"He can't see?" he repeated.

"I guess… I dunno… It's what he said," she answered.

"Lieutenant? You're bleedin'," he pointed to her cheek. Claire used her sleeve to wipe off the blood.

"Barely," she replied. "Now go on, get to work."

"Yes ma'am," he said with a small smirk. He seemed to be getting used to her stubbornness.

Claire was bandaging a few cuts from the fight when she saw Dick limp in. Gene took him and sat him on the desk next to where she was finishing bandaging up a young Private from Dog Company.

"All fixed up and good to go," she told the Private and sent him on his way. "The Hell happened to you, Dick?" Claire asked.

"Ricochet," Dick said. "Barely anything. I could say the same thing to you, Claire."

"I'm okay," she told him. "Just a scratch. You doin' alright?" She asked Gene.

"Yeah," he responded.

"Okay, when you're done, take a break," she told him.

Eugene merely grunted in response as he kept working.

Claire took a seat outside the aid station to finally catch her breath. Looking at the town, Claire thought about how many times she almost died. The bullets, the mortars, but she hadn't even thought about it. She hadn't been afraid. Not even after almost getting blown up. Now, when the storm calmed, however, Claire felt her hands beginning to shake, her heart rate picked up. She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself down. She couldn't get Quinn's dead stare out of her mind.

 _Get yourself together._

 _Death happens. It comes for everyone._ She took in another deep breath. Claire's hand instinctively went for the pendant around her neck. She gripped it, trying to get any sense of comfort from it. The only thing of her family she had left, besides the very warped picture in her breast pocket.

Not long after she managed to collect her thoughts, Claire walked back in the aid station to pull Eugene out for some air. She swore, that man was as stubborn as she was. She walked in to see Blithe up and walking towards the door.

"Blithe? What're you doin'?" Claire asked. The boy stopped. His eyes were clear. "You should be sitting down…"

"I'm okay, ma'am," Blithe assured. She saw his eyes were focused, the pupils reacting to light.

"You can see?" Claire asked.

"I don't know what happened," he told her. By the look of him, Claire had an idea.

"Blithe, what happened out there?" Claire asked.

"I was fightin' and then things went black," he explained.

"What were you feelin' when you were fighting?" She asked.

"I'm not sure I understand, ma'am," he replied.

"What were you feelin'?" She repeated.

"I… I was scared," he admitted, confirming her theory.

"Blithe, I think you had something called hysterical blindness," she told him. He gave her a confused look. "You got so scared your mind decided to shut off your sight to protect itself from what you were seeing. Go outside, grab some air, eat something and take it easy. You're fine."

"Yes, ma'am," he said and then walked outside.

Claire walked in to see Eugene finishing up bandaging Dick.

"I thought you were outside," Dick said when she walked back in the room.

"I was, but I came back to make sure Doc takes a breather," she explained.

"I will, I will," he assured. "You're good to go Lieutenant Winters."

"Thanks Doc," Dick said. "And she's right, take a break. Both of you."

He looked pointedly at her, knowing she had a hard time sitting still for more than five minutes.

"Yes sir," she replied with a smirk on her lips. "Make sure you try to stay off that leg." Dick smirked back then he limped out of the aid station.

"Can I please have a look at that?" Gene asked pointing to her cheek. Claire reluctantly sat on the table.

"Fine," she replied. "But I'm tellin' you, it ain't bad."

"Deep enough for stitches," Eugene countered. Enlisted Medics didn't do that if there was an officer. Claire was able to. Her supplies were much more varied than Eugene's were. Claire reached in her bag and pulled out her suture kit and handed it to him.

"I trust you," she told him.

"Lieutenant…"

"I won't tell if you won't," she said. Gene took the suture kit and threaded the needle.

Claire winced as Gene poked into her skin with the needle.

"How'd it happen?" Gene asked.

Claire thought about the street blowing up from under her and being blown back.

"Mortar hit," she replied. "I got lucky."

That word again, _lucky_.

She thought about Tipper who was going to lose his right eye, and how burnt his legs were.

"The guy I was tryin' to drag here wasn't. He didn't make it," she explained remembering Quinn's blood and guts splattered on the ground.

"You see Blithe?" Gene asked as he added another stitch and changing the subject.

"Yeah, on my way in to get you," she nodded. "He got so scared, he went blind."

"That can happen?" Eugene asked.

Claire shrugged. She flinched as he poked the needle through her skin again. "Everyone processes fear differently, in Blithe's case his mind tried to shield him. Gotta give him this, he coulda easily kept it going an' got a ticket back to England, but he stayed back," Claire admired.

"Yeah… I guess," he said. She noticed that he was quiet, as if getting lost in his own mind.

"What're you thinking about?" She asked.

"A soldier died under my hands today," Gene told her as he finished off her stitches. "By the time I got there… I wasn't fast enough."

"Stop," she told him. "If you go on blaming yourself for the things you can't change, it'll kill you. Don't dwell, move on, learn, and keep doing your job."

The words that were getting her through all this. Eugene was quiet.

"Are you okay?" Claire asked.

"Yeah. Are you?" He hesitated before answering.

"Yeah," she said.

Later, when she and Eugene finally left the aid station, Claire took a spot leaning against the wall for a breather. Gene was grabbing a quick nap before they were going to move out again. Claire went to take a cigarette out of the pack in her pocket. Instead, she felt the book in her pocket and pulled it out. It was similar to her own journal, small, bound by leather. She leafed through it. It was written in German, which meant she couldn't read it, that still didn't stop her from trying. The journal was only a quarter of the way full. The last entry came from June 4th, at least that's what she guessed. She kept seeing one word being repeated over and over again in the entries leading up to the last one.

"Hey, Liebgott," she called out to him. He was sitting on the steps with a smoke hanging out of his mouth. "What does _Heim_ mean?"

"Home," Liebgott replied.

 _Home._

"Thanks," she told him.

"Did Tip make it?" Tipper was one of Liebgott's closest friends in the company.

"Yeah, they evacuated him," Claire answered.

"Good, that's good," he stated and then inhaled deeply from his cigarette.

Claire went back to the journal. She could figure out some words by guess work. Eventually, she grew frustrated with trying to decipher the words and stuck the book back in her pocket and pulled out her own journal. She took out the pencil from her kit and began writing.

"Hey," Lew said as he plopped down next to her. "Where've you been?"

"Right here," she replied looking up from her journal. "Enjoyin' it while I can."

"Busy day?"

Claire gave him an annoyed look. "Just doin' my job, y'know. Dodgin' bullets, almost gettin' blown up…"

"Yeah, I heard about that. Stop almost getting killed, okay?" Lew said.

"Tell the Krauts to stop shootin' an' I'll get right on that," she replied sarcastically.

"Smartass," he told her. "I see they gave you a little souvenir."

He referred to the cut on her cheek.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were worried about me, Lew," she stated.

"Luckily, you do know better," he replied jokingly.

"I do," she replied with a smile.

* * *

Claire got word that they were moving out in an hour, the wounded had been moved to the nearby field hospital. She got up from her spot on the wall and sought out Albert Blithe. After what happened earlier, she wanted to make sure that he'd calmed down enough. She found him in the centre square with Muck, Malarkey, Penkala, and More. He was laying down, rubbing his eyes.

"Hey, Lieutenant Rousseau, how's it going?" Muck greeted when he saw her.

"Doing fine, Muck. Blithe, mind if I talk to you a minute?" She asked.

"Uh, ok," he nervously replied. He got up from his spot by the statue in the square.

They walked out of earshot of the other soldiers. "I'm just checking in, making sure you're still alright."

"I'm okay," he responded. He was looking down at his feet in shame.

"It's alright to be scared, Blithe," she told him. "Every single one of us is. I thought you should know that I think you're being awfully brave right now."

"Ma'am?" He asked confused. Claire knew she was supposed to help boost morale among the men.

"You could've gone back to England," she explained. "I would've done the paperwork. But, you're still here."

"I didn't… I didn't want to let anyone down."

"You didn't," she added. "But that fear you have, you can't let it control you like it did today. It's the only way you'll make it out. I can see it in you, Blithe, you can do it."

"Thank you, ma'am."

"I'd get your stuff if I were you, we'll be moving out soon," she said. Blithe nodded and walked away.

Claire hoped that what she said would help him, otherwise, he was going to end up dead like Quinn.

* * *

They were on the road again. This time Claire walked with Penkala, Muck, and Malarkey. They didn't know where they were going exactly. Then, the bullets started flying.

"Incoming!" Someone yelled.

Muck pulled Claire down as they dove to the ground.

"Medic!" Someone yelled. _Here we go._ Claire broke away from the group and sprinted towards the call.

"Where the fuck you goin', Skip?" Malarkey yelled.

She didn't know Muck was following her. It was a young Private who had been shot in the chest.

"Doc, what can I do?" He asked.

"Elevate his legs," she ordered. Muck elevated his legs. Claire had one hand pressed on his wound, the blood was seeping through her fingers, the other reached into her pack for the sulfa. Bullets were still ripping through the air around her.

Claire quickly opened the sulfa and poured it on the wound. The private was crying out in pain.

"I don't wanna die!" He cried. "I don't wanna die!"

"You are not gonna die," she assured as she pressed the bandage against the soldier. "Muck, there's morphine in my pocket, give it to him." Muck nodded and reached into her pocket while Claire pressed on the wound.

"I don't wanna die!" The soldier sobbed.

"Where you from, sweetheart?" She asked in a soft comforting voice.

"M-Memphis," he stuttered.

"Memphis, that's in Tennessee right?" She asked.

"Y-Yeah," he said.

"Where do I…?" Muck asked sounding frantic, scared.

"His thigh," she answered keeping her head levelled. Muck injected the syrette of morphine while Claire tied the bandage. The soldier's body went slack from blood loss.

"Let's go!" Claire ordered as she and Muck started dragging the soldier away from the battlefield.

They ran until Claire saw the medic bands.

"Stretcher!" She yelled. They ran over and lifted the soldier on the stretcher and evacuated him out of the firefight.

"Boy, am I glad you're here," Muck told her when they were finally alone again.

* * *

Later that night, Claire sat in the freshly dug foxhole she shared with Gene not too far from the line. They were in close enough proximity that if anyone called for a medic, they would hear it. It was light discipline, which meant no smoking, no talking loudly, though Claire didn't think it would make that much of a difference since the Germans were singing at the top of their lungs.

"The Hell they gotta sing about?" Claire asked.

"Tryin' to keep us awake, probably," Gene deduced.

"Fucking Krauts…" she mumbled under her breath. She was exhausted, but she couldn't fall asleep. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Quinn staring back at her. She could feel the water when she landed on D-Day, hear the German's yelling as Claire ran for her life, and see the face of the man she'd killed.

It was a reality she accepted when she took on this job that she would probably not make it back. Like she'd told Lew, she wasn't afraid to die. Claire didn't have much to live for anymore anyways. She didn't _want_ to die, but she thought that if she did perish, then at least she could die while helping people.

"Claire, are you okay?" Gene asked. They asked each other this a lot. And every time it was always the same answer.

"I'm fine," she assured. "You?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"D'you know what I've been cravin' since we got here? Mrs. Maude's jambalaya," she changed the subject. "She had this little run down shack on the other side of town, best damn jambalaya in the state of Louisiana."

Roe scoffed. "Nah, my ma made the best."

"Ma's cookin's always the best," she agreed. "One of the only things I remember 'bout mine. Sometimes, I could still hear her humming in our kitchen back home."

She missed that kitchen.

Gene gave her a strange look.

"My mom died when I was nine," Claire explained.

"I'm sorry," he told her.

Claire shrugged. "It was a long time ago."

She wasn't sure why exactly she was confiding in Gene. She supposed it was the comfort she felt with him. More comfortable than she was with most people.

"Gene, we're friends, right?" Claire asked.

"I'd like to think so," he told her.

"When the Hell did that happen?" She asked only half jokingly. Things moved so quickly these past two years, she didn't fully understand how she went from being more hated than Sobel to being friends with at least most of the men.

"That day you helped me with the plasma," he said. "I knew, I could see it, you weren't gonna wash out."

Claire almost laughed. "Funny, that was the day I almost gave in. But then you came 'round all confused 'n I knew I couldn't in good conscience let you go alone."

Gene cracked a small smile.

"When this is over, I'll get Ma to make you jambalaya, then you can know what you've been missing out on," he told her. "And my sister'll bake some you some bread. She's a good baker."

Claire smiled. She didn't tell him that she didn't think she would make it back to the States.

"Get some sleep, Gene. I'll stay up jus' in case," she replied.

In the company, Claire considered Lew, Dick, and Gene to be her closest friends. They'd been there since Toccoa. They were the first ones to actually treat her like a soldier, and not simply a woman. Claire spent most of her life with only James as a friend. She never fit in with the girls at school, nor was she ever accepted by the boys. She had a few friends here and there, but never like this. She loved her friends, and that terrified her.

"Medic," she heard the distant call. Gene's eyes snapped open. Claire shot up and climbed out of the foxhole.

"I got this one," she assured him before taking off into the night. She flipped the switch and went back to 'nurse' mode.

Claire ran over to the call, it was Talbert. He was leaning up against a tree moaning in pain. Smith was standing in his foxhole looking white as a sheet and Liebgott was originally applying pressure until Claire arrived. She quickly assessed the wound.

"Alright, Talbert, I'm gonna put some sulfa on it and bandage it up," she explained. She could see he was wearing a Kraut rain poncho. "You're gonna be fine."

"See? Gonna be fine, Tab," Liebgott repeated. Talbert moaned in pain.

"I'm sorry," Smith apologized.

Claire made quick work of patching him up. Lieutenant Speirs came by and Claire assured him that Talbert was fine. It was an accident caused by a scared private. Speirs nodded and then went on his way.

"C'mon, Floyd, let's get you outta here," she said after she finished patching him up.

"Thanks, Doc," Talbert said.

Luckily, he could walk as she put one arm around his waist and supported his weight as they started walking. Liebgott came along to provide support since the aid station was about a kilometer away. The walk was uneventful and then they arrived Claire gave the medics the tag and left Talbert with them. She made it back with Liebgott, who returned to his foxhole. When she slid in her own hole, Eugene's eyes opened.

"What happened?" He asked rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"Talbert got on the bad side of Smith's bayonet when he went to wake him wearing a Kraut poncho," Claire explained. "He's gonna be fine."

"Why don't you try getting some sleep, I'll take the next one," Gene told her, and honestly Claire was too exhausted to tell him no.

Claire leaned back against the dirt wall and took her helmet off, her head resting against the muddy wall. She closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Things moved fast the next morning. When the sun rose, Claire and Gene left their foxhole but remained behind the line until someone would call for them. And then the first mortar blast hit. Shots started flying through the air, Claire could hear men shouting orders, even being able to pick out a few voices in particular.

The first cry for a medic came, and then another. Claire and Gene each ran towards a call. The soldier Claire ran to had been shot multiple times in the chest. It was Randleman who'd called. He was doing his best to stop the bleeding. It was Martin Richards from First Platoon.

Claire ran over and ripped open a pack of sulfa and poured it on the holes. A bullet zipped by her head. The blood pouring out of Richards' chest. Claire ripped out bandages from her bag. Richards was crying out in agony.

"Randleman!" She tossed a bandage to him. "Put pressure on there until I can get to it!"

"I wanna go home!" Richards cried out.

"Here comes the morphine, Richards," she told him as she stabbed the syrette in his thigh.

"You're gonna be fine, Rich," Randleman assured.

"I can't feel my legs," he sobbed panicked. "I can't feel my legs!" His hands had curled up into half fists. She'd seen this type of thing before. He started coughing, blood shooting out of his mouth.

Claire was putting on a bandage when Richards' breathing was haggard. More blood was pouring from his mouth and his chest. She had to stop the bleeding before they could move him. They had to move fast.

"I wanna go home," Richards sobbed.

"You're goin' home, Rich, just stay with us!" Randleman's voice boomed.

"I don't wanna die. Please God," he sobbed.

"You are _not_ gonna –" Claire started saying before she was cut off by a bullet burying itself in Richards's skull.

"DAMMIT!" Claire swore as she tossed the bloodied bandage on the ground. Randleman and Claire shared a look before the shooting around them pulled them out of the shared moment of sadness.

"Medic!" She knew immediately that it was Buck's voice.

 _Back to it, Rousseau._

Claire sprinted away from Randleman and further down the line. She could see a tank pulling out of the brush across the field.

"Son of a bitch," Claire swore.

The first shot of the artillery made a nearby tree splitter. Claire shielded her face with her arm and kept running. Their left flank, she later found out, had abandoned them. She made it to Buck.

"What happened?" Claire asked.

"Shot through the knee," he replied. Claire reached for the sulfa in her pack and poured it onto the wound and bandaged up the knee. Claire gave him a shot of morphine.

"We gotta move, now!" She ordered. They lifted the wounded soldier up into a chair hold and started running as quickly as they could through the battlefield.

They managed to bring the soldier back to the aid station. She told the medics what happened before running out of the aid station and back to the line. She managed to patch up three other men before the American Shermans broke through the line.

"Thank God," she cheered upon seeing them.

Suddenly, the Krauts were running away.

"Let 'em have it! Pour it on 'em!" She could hear Dick yelling.

Claire watched as the Shermans tore threw the German lines. She couldn't tear her eyes away as a German soldier screamed as the tank rolled over him. Soldiers were dropping to the ground. A few were still firing shots.

"Medic!" Someone yelled. Claire ran towards the call.

"Jesus," she said under her breath at the gruesome sight. He was screaming out in agony.

Laying on the ground, his guts spewing on the ground, was a young man who couldn't have been older than nineteen. One of his legs was missing too. He was sobbing, the blood dribbling down his chin. One hand was trying to keep his insides in. Claire blocked out the gruesomeness of the scene and set off to work.

There was hardly anything left that was salvageable.

 _How is he still alive?_ She thought to herself. There was nothing she could do. He would never make the trip. And even if by some miracle he did, there was no way he would live to see England. Claire did the one thing she could do… she pulled out a syrette of morphine and stabbed it in his left thigh. She pulled out another and stabbed it in his other thigh.

"Momma?" He sobbed as his body began to relax due to the effects of the morphine.

Claire took off his helmet and sat with his head in her lap. There was nothing she could do but watch him die. She swallowed the lump in her throat.

"Momma?" He cried, his brown eyes looking up at her in fear. "I wanna go home."

Claire stroked his brown hair comfortingly.

"It's okay. It's okay, you're going home," she lied.

"I'm going home?" he asked sobbing.

He coughed, more blood poured from his mouth. He was gasping for breath now.

"It's okay," she assured. She started humming Billie Holiday softly, stroking his hair.

"Mo…ma…"

"Shh, it's okay," she comforted. He was staring directly into her eyes.

"M…"

And suddenly there was nothing. His brown eyes stared up, frozen. His body was lax. Claire wiped away a traitorous tear that rolled down her cheek.

Claire didn't know his name. She recognized him from Easy, but he was one of the men who joined after Toccoa. They had a few new men join them along their journey to Normandy, but there were only so many names Claire could remember. He was hardly a man since he looked like he should still be in high school, chasing cheerleaders and playing football... not dying in a war far from home calling out for his mother. His mother would be receiving the same telegram Claire got over two years ago.

Claire closed his eyes and looked at his tag. She wiped off the blood and saw his name was Thomas Walton. His next of kin was Margaret Walton of New Jersey. Claire looked down once more at the bloodied body. She'd seen people die before, but it had never felt like this. She'd held someone, watched them as they bled out, and there was nothing she could do about it. It was that paralyzing sense of helplessness she wanted to prevent.

 _Get it together, Claire. It's war. People die in war. Don't dwell on it._

"Don't dwell," she reminded herself.

Claire knew there was a Mortuary Affairs team dispatched to this location. She removed one of his dog tags and covered his body with his blanket. They would be able to deal with the body. Her pile of dog tags was getting rather large.

She came here to save lives, but the truth was, she couldn't save everyone and she knew that.

Claire made it back to the rest of Easy. She took a deep breath and composed herself. She was strong, she could handle this. She wouldn't have made it this far if she couldn't.

Muck noticed her and came over. His eyes roamed over her body. She knew he wasn't checking her out, his eyes were filled with concern.

"You been hit?" He asked, Claire knew he was referring to Thomas Walton's blood that covered her uniform, and her hands.

"Not mine," she answered. Claire reached into her breast pocket and pulled out her pack of smokes. "Got a light?"

Muck took out his lighter and lit the cigarette for her. Claire inhaled deeply and breathed out the smoke. She pushed the image of Thomas Walton from her mind.

"You see Doc 'round?" Claire asked. She didn't see him in the sea of people.

"Yeah, I think he's down that way," he pointed.

"Thanks," she replied.

"Russ, you doin' alright?" Muck asked.

"I'm still alive 'n the Krauts are runnin' away with their tails between their legs. I'd say it's a damn good day," she told him. "Wouldn't you agree, Muck?"

"Damn good day," he replied.

It was true, she was still alive and that was a good thing. Claire thought about the men she'd saved that day. Tomorrow, because she'd made it, she could save even more. She wouldn't save everyone; it was foolishly naïve to think that she could. But if she could help save one more man, she supposed that would be good enough.

* * *

 _D-Day plus 25_

After taking Carentan, Easy Company and the rest of the 506th thought they would be taken off the line, but this was not the case. Instead, they pushed aggressively against the Germans. This kept Claire, Eugene, and the other medics busy. However, there were no fatalities. Many of the men got dysentery. Claire's uniform had been stained with so much blood, it was stiff and crusty. Her hair was matted with the dirt and dust. She couldn't imagine how bad it would've been had she kept her long locks. They had not showered or slept in real beds since they arrived on D-Day. Their K-rations were disgusting, and the bugs were almost as bad as the bayou back home. She practically forced atabrine down their throats to keep them from getting malaria.

First Platoon was running a patrol. Claire, Eugene, and the rest of them remained behind. Lew went on the patrol too. Claire joked that he was finally getting his ODs dirty. He told her to fuck off, in jest of course. While Lew wasn't much like her brother, Claire felt a brotherly bond with him. They teased and taunted each other constantly.

Gene and Claire remained within ear shot, just in case. As soon as the echo of the shots started coming, Claire heard the call for a medic. Both she and Gene took off running as fast as they could. The shooting stopped.

"Move!" Claire ordered as they pushed through the crowd of people.

It was Blithe lying on the ground, blood gushing from his neck. Claire would never forget the haunted look in his eye, as if he was accepting his fate.

 _Not on my watch._

He couldn't give up. This guy has a family back home waiting for him.

"You're gonna be alright, Blithe, just hang in there," she assured him as she and Gene worked on stopping the bleeding.

Once the bandages were tied, and the bleeding was slowing down, Claire called for a stretcher and Blithe was taken off the line.

When Easy made it back to Carentan, they were told they were finally being taken off the line to a camp on Utah Beach and then they would be heading off back to England. There was a collective feeling of relief. They'd made it. They'd jumped into Normandy with one hundred and thirty-nine men and officers. They were leaving with seventy-four men and officers. Lieutenant Meehan was KIA, which meant Dick was the permanent Commanding Officer of Easy Company.

When they made it to Utah, there were hot showers, hot food, and for the first time since landing, a break. Private More became the master scrounger for Easy Company. On one day, he brought back crates of canned fruits. Claire had never tasted anything so sweet in her whole life, that is until she threw it back up. She'd never been more sick. Her body wasn't used to the sweetness. After that, he scrounged up more variety.

The beach itself was a sight to see. The bodies of the dead soldiers were removed, but the sand was still stained red. She did not want to think about how so many men, much like the men in her company, had been shot down before even reaching the beach. She thought about all the families that were sitting at home, broken, just like her family was. Claire, despite her best efforts, let a tear roll down her cheek.

Claire sat on the beach and took in a deep breath. She thought about James, and how much she missed him. She'd noticed, ever since landing, that she didn't have time to think much about him. She didn't have time to miss him. But now, sitting on this beach, she couldn't stop thinking about him. Even though Claire had lost all of her equipment in the jump, she still had her leather bound journal in her breast pocket. It was on the other side, away from the German soldiers. She hadn't opened either of them since that first day back in Carentan. Claire opened the journal and leafed through it, only to find no empty pages. She sighed and put it back in her jacket.

Out of the corner of her eye, Claire saw the American Flag waving proudly. She stood up off the beach and kept staring at it. The Rousseau's were raised with a profound sense of duty to their country. It was one of the driving forces behind why she enlisted in the first place. Their father fought during the last year of the Great War. He and her mother met in France because she'd volunteered to be a nurse.

While James joined the Navy for the money, he only intended to stay the year, that is until he decided to make a career out of it. He said that he felt more at home in the Navy than he did back in Breaux Bridge after they lost everything. Claire was beginning to understand that now. Had James been alive after Pearl Harbor, she knew he would've been first in line to enlist. It was their duty to help when they could.

The flag symbolized much more than the United States to her. It was those long summer nights surrounded by fireflies, the July Fourth when she was a kid where they would all go in the boat and set off fireworks in the middle of the water. It was the memory of her parents, her little sister she never got to know, and of James. It was home, family, and freedom. As it stood there amongst the remnants of death and destruction, she thought that it served as reminder that those were the things they were fighting for. Claire smiled at the flag before going back to camp.

* * *

 **One thing that always bothers me when I'm watching the show is that they said Albert Blithe died in 1948, this is actually false. Blithe didn't die until the sixties and had a successful career in the army prior to his demise. The American flag on the beach was written about in Dick Winters' memoire (which if you have not read his or any of the books from the Easy Company men I would because they are incredible). The paragraph or so where he talks about the flag made me realize just how important it is for patriotic symbols to exist.**

 **I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Please let me know what you thought!**


	6. Interlude

_Aldbourne, England – Summer 1944_

Claire sat with Gene, Randleman, Penkala, and Muck on the train back to England. More and Malarkey had stolen a motorcycle from the beach, much to the amusement to everyone. They rode it back all the way to Aldbourne. Upon their return, they receive two freshly cleaned uniforms, all their back pay, their mail –Claire had received two letters, one from Eleanor, which she read, and another that she threw in the trash the moment she saw the name – and a week long pass. By seven or eight the next morning, most of the men went off to London for a week. Claire didn't go to London, she wanted some time alone. She'd already been to Scotland before the drop into Normandy. This time, she decided on Ireland. Claire spent a week roaming the countryside, taking in the sights, and enjoying a nice relaxing week.

When she returned, and heard all the stories about how the 101st raised all kinds of Hell partying. Claire laughed. She talked little about her trip, there wasn't much to say. It was nice to be alone and not have to worry about hearing the cry for a medic. It didn't stop her from having nightmares. She always played back Quinn's guts being blown on the ground, Thomas Walton calling out for his mother as he died in Claire's arms, and the haunted, accepting look in Blithe's eyes as he bled from a wound on his neck. The cut on her cheek healed nicely, leaving a scar behind. Some women may have thought a scar on the cheek was the worst possible thing that could happen to them, Claire didn't care. She also had another on her arm from the bullet graze.

Claire was on her way to the mess hall when Dick and Lew ran into her.

"Just the girl we were looking for," Lew said.

"What's goin' on?" Claire asked.

"I was just in a meeting with Colonel Sink," Dick said. "He's seen it fit to give you a promotion. And I agree."

Dick handed Claire the small box, which held the silver single bar. Claire's heart swelled with pride.

"Congratulations, First Lieutenant," Lew told her with a wide smile on his lips.

"Thank you," she said as she looked at the bar once more. "This is…"

She was at a loss for words. Claire didn't think she would go past Second Lieutenant, a rank she only had because the Army realized that it was the only way to get men to listen to the nurses.

"You earned it," said Dick.

Claire smiled once more. She had earned it. She pinned the new bar to the collar of her uniform, the same way Lew and Dick had their bars. She wondered if James and her father would've been proud of her. She'd like to think so.

The mess hall was in a barn. This time in Aldbourne, the officers were not quartered with families. Instead, they were all in a lovely stone brick house just to the outside of town with the enlisted men, they had cleaned out the stables and were set up there. Claire still went by the Phillips residence when she could. Alice had been ecstatic to see her come back. Claire was equally as happy to see the girl.

Claire was lucky enough to get her own room, though she supposed it was so there would be no temptation to fraternize. Not that she ever would. Claire saw the men more like her brothers. And most times, Claire thought the men forgot she was a woman. Modesty seemed to no longer be a concern for them. They swore, burped, farted, and took pisses in front of her.

Her room was next to Buck's. She hadn't really gotten the chance to know him well before Normandy since he'd joined the company late. She found him to be a bit cocky at times, but he was a good man. The enlisted men all loved him. Buck was closer with them then he was the other officers. Claire understood that, as she was much closer with some of the enlisted men then she was Peacock or the other new officers. The enlisted men had more respect for her than the officers did.

One thing Claire noticed was how the replacements would be rude to her and loudly object to 'having to deal with some broad', or make some comment about her looks, the Toccoa men would shut them down. They all had each other's backs. They knew they could depend on her in battle, and she them.

Training resumed as it had before. Dick managed to smuggle some actual ammunition from Normandy back to give the replacements a real feeling of what they would be up against. While Claire understood wholeheartedly where he was coming from, she didn't like the risk he was taking. If one of the men got injured, it would fall on him. Still, the men would be grateful when they would inevitably return to battle. Claire taught some more first aid to the replacements.

When she got to the barn, Claire grabbed some food and went to sit down. She sat next to Eugene at the end of the table on the other side of Muck and Malarkey. Recently, she'd been eating with the enlisted men. Well, it wasn't that difficult since the officers and the men weren't separated this time around.

Many of the men who were wounded in Normandy, such as Lipton, Gordon, and Talbert, had joined them again. She did not think about the ones who weren't there. Gordon, who'd just gotten back from his trip to Scotland with Lipton, was standing in front of the crowd. The crowd hushed as Gordon started one of his famous poems.

"The Night of the Bayonet," Gordon started. "The night was filled with dark and cold, when Sergeant Talbert, the story's told…"

Talbert was always one of Gordon's favourite people to tease. Talbert came in and sat at the table next to theirs.

"Pulled on his poncho and headed out, to check the lines dressed like a Kraut." Claire could see Smith blushing from two tables over.

"Why's everyone in such a hurry to get back, huh?" Malarkey joked upon seeing Talbert.

"… Upon the trooper our hero came, fast asleep he called his name."

Claire suppressed her laugh.

"Smith, oh Smith, get up it's time, to take your turn out on the line," Gordon continued.

Claire out of the corner of her eye could see Lew walking towards Lipton and Buck. She got the sense that something was about to go down. Claire looked down at the tray of hot food and wondered how many more of these they would get before they moved out again.

"…But Smith, so very weary cracked an eye all red and bleary…"

"Oh my God." She could hear Smith say embarrassed.

"...Grabbed his rifle, he did not tarry. Hearing Floyd but seeing Jerry…"

"Way to go Smithy," someone yelled out. Claire was looking over at Lipton, who had a dark look cross his face as Harry walked away after he said something to him.

"… 'It's me!' cried Tab, 'Don't do it', and yet Smith charged with bayonet, he lunged, thrust both high and low. And skewered the boy from Kokomo," Gordon concluded.

The men were laughing, but not Claire. All she could think about was the water rushing over her head after she'd landed, of the German soldier falling to the side after she'd shot him. She thought about the ground exploding and knocking her over. Private Quinn's intestines strewn across the cobblestone road.

 _Momma. I wanna go home._ Thomas Walton's cries for his mother.

"Russ?" Muck got her attention.

"Hm?" Claire responded.

"Seemed a bit dazed there, dreamin' about me again?" He joked. Claire had a small smirk on her lips.

"You wish," she replied. Claire saw one of the new replacements walk by, only to be stopped by Bill. From what she overheard, they were both from South Philadelphia, growing up not too far away from each other. It was strange how something like a home state or town can bond two people together.

"Since you weren't wounded by the enemy, and thus didn't qualify for a purple heart, we took manners into our own hands," Gordon continued with his ceremony. He took off one of his three purple hearts from his uniform and held it out. "Tab, this is for you."

"I coulda shot the kid a dozen times," Talbert declared. Claire shook her head and laughed.

"Yeah right," Liebgott retorted. He'd been there when the incident happened. Claire thought about how he moaned and groaned while leaning in the tree.

"I just didn't think we could spare a man."

Claire's smile faded from her lips when she saw the somber look on Lipton's face.

"I'm gonna head back to barracks," she told them. In reality, Claire needed fresh air. She needed to compose herself. Claire got up from the table and walked out without waiting for a response.

* * *

"I gotta ask, what's the deal with the dame?" Heffron asked in a low voice when Claire left the table.

"The fuck's that supposed to mean?" Malarkey snapped. Eugene had to swallow his own retort. No one talked shit about Easy's girl. She would hate that they called her that, but he knew Easy looked after each other. She'd been with the Company since Toccoa. With all the shit she went through, she more than earned her place. Which was more than what most of the men would say about the new replacements.

"Woman on the front, ain't that a bit… risky?" Heffron asked somewhat cautiously.

"Risky? Trust me, you're not gonna be saying that shit when she's running out in the middle of a fight to save your wounded ass," Muck snapped.

"You don't say shit about the Lieutenant, Heffron," Guarnere warned. "Ain't gonna be us you gotta worry about, it's her."

Heffron smirked. "I'm sure I can handle her."

The entire table laughed.

"Ah, Babe, you got no idea," Guarnere said.

"Couple of announcements men," Lipton's voice brought them back to attention. "First – listen up, the training exercise for 2200 hours is cancelled."

This got a cheer among the men.

"Oh yeah!" Muck cheered.

"Secondly, all weekend passes are revoked."

This incited a groan among the men.

"We're heading back to France, so pack up your gear. We will not be returning to England boys. Anyone who hasn't made a will, head to the supply office. Trucks depart for Membury at 0700 hours," Lipton spoke.

The air suddenly became very tense. Gene couldn't sleep without thinking about Normandy. All the shit he saw during Carentan, but mostly during the time in the aid station at St-Marie-du-Mont, he couldn't stop thinking about it. There were men pleading to God to kill them so the pain would stop. Others were crying out for their mothers while they writhed in agony. He thought about the countless new faces to replace the ones that were either dead or wounded. They'd just been taken off the line, and now they were going back.

Suddenly, Eugene understood why Claire walked out.

* * *

 _Aldbourne, England- Summer 1944_

Sixteen times their operations were cancelled. They spent the entire summer in Aldbourne. During that time, along with her promotion to First Lieutenant, Dick was promoted to Captain, long overdue in her opinion. Harry was made Executive Officer and Buck was promoted to First Lieutenant. In the Enlisted Men, Malarkey, Muck, Ranney, and a number of others were promoted from Private to Sergeant. Guarnere and Martin became Staff Sergeants. Eugene was promoted to Corporal.

Claire went to London on one weekend pass. She had to admit, London was not her favourite place. Though, she supposed the people had a negative image of the 101st after the week that was said to have caused as much damage as The Blitz did. She did, however, meet a few of the women who were in the British Military. Though she didn't talk to them long, they knew that she was on the line and they understood more or less what it was like to be a woman in the Army. Claire had much respect for them, as they did her.

A common side effect to GI's going on leave tended to be small outbreaks of STIs. She gave out prophylactic kits and condoms like they were candy. She treated many of her fellow soldiers for STIs. Many of her friends were among them. Needless to say, any residual modesty and awkwardness was thrown out the window.

On another weekend pass she went to Brighton. This time she did not go alone. Buck, Malarkey, and Muck went with her. They spent the weekend on the beach and in the pub. It was easy to forget what happened in June when she was with them. They laughed, drank, and Claire and Muck watched the other two fail for the most part at hitting on women.

"You're not gonna get in on that?" Claire asked. "I'm pretty sure the blonde at the end of the bar's lookin' this way."

Muck briefly looked over and then shook his head. "Nah, don't need some limey. Not when I got Faye back home."

"Ah yes, Faye Tanner," Claire remembered.

"Mhm," he replied. "I'm gonna marry her when I get back."

Claire smiled. "What's she like?"

"She's beautiful, got this amazing smile, bright eyes. She lights up the room whenever she walks in," he recounted. The way he talked about her, Claire could see how much he loved her. "She's sweet too. Been in love with her since I was a kid."

"She sounds great," Claire told him.

"What about you, Russ? You got a sweetheart?" He asked. A lot of the men tried to find out things about her life from before, but Claire only spoke about her past every once in awhile. Some knew more than others, Guarnere and Gene for instance.

"Nope," she answered. "I did, a long time ago but it didn't work out."

"What happened?" He asked.

"Love's not enough, you gotta like the person too. Turns out, I didn't like him all that much."

"What did he do?" Muck asked.

"He tried to make into something I wasn't," she shrugged.

"And that was…"

"A proper southern lady."

"Yeah," he laughed. "That's definitely not you."

"It could be," she replied. Sometimes she did miss being a woman with long hair and wearing dresses.

"You wouldn't be you," he said. "And I happen to like you like this."

Claire grinned. She was still that woman, she was just hidden for now.

Malarkey came and sat at the table, looking dejected. He'd been rejected for the third time; Claire took pity on him. She knew that his on-again off-again romance with a girl back home was off again. She finished her drink and set her glass back down.

"Alright, Malarkey, don't say I never did anythin' for ya," she told him. "Pretend to look sad." It was their last night in town, and Malarkey deserved a little fun.

Claire got up from their booth in the back and walked over the two women sitting at a table across the way. They cast her a strange look as she came up to them. She managed to talk them into a dance. That night, Claire and Muck went back to their rooms while Malarkey and Buck were off chasing after the local women.

Aside from those two trips, Claire spent most of her time on the base or visiting Alice. Since her mother worked so much, they would often cook together. Alice talked about her brother. He was still in France fighting on the frontline. She tried to ask Claire what the front was like, but Claire always changed the subject. Alice didn't need to know all the horrors of war. Claire wanted to spare her from it. She wanted to keep the girl innocent for as long as she could.

* * *

 **More of a filler chapter, but I wanted a brief break, to you and the characters, before the next campaign. Still, I do hope you enjoy it. Let me know.**


	7. Casualties

_September 1944- Aldbourne, England_

Claire was standing by the bar in the pub with Gene, Muck, Malarkey, and Penkala. Originally, Claire didn't intend on going out, but Muck convinced her. Well, he said he would be buying since he owed her from that night in Brighton. They were watching the game of darts between Buck and the replacement from South Philly, Heffron. Now, he was commonly known to the group as 'Babe', though Claire didn't know why.

Buck was losing miserably, but Claire could see right through him. He was her neighbour after all. She knew for a fact he was right handed. Based on the calm expression on Luz's face, this was their plan. Claire shook her head and laughed.

At some point, Bill went over and was talking to the new replacements from Randleman's squad. Claire couldn't help but notice how very young and awfully green they were. She heard them often times talk about wanting to see some action, kill some Krauts. Every time she heard it, Claire told them they would get their chance, though she silently hoped they wouldn't. She tried not to think about how many of them she would need to patch up, and how many of them she would fail to save.

The original Toccoa men gave the replacements a hard time, mostly because they were filling spots that used to be occupied by their friends, men they trained with for almost two years. They didn't give them nearly as much Hell as they did her, but Claire pitied the replacements. They tried so hard to be accepted.

"You shoulda seen these girls, Doc," Malarkey recounted as he described their last weekend in Brighton. "I mean long legs, huge tits, beautiful smile…"

"What was her name again?" Claire asked.

"Peggy," he answered. "I don't know what you said to 'em, but whatever it was it worked."

Claire shrugged. "I told 'em you just got one of those Dear John letters, 'n that we were about to ship off. I may have suggested that she could heal your broken heart."

"And boy did she."

Claire rolled her eyes teasingly and laughed.

"I'm telling you, Doc, I'm never going to talk to a girl again. I'm gonna get Russ to do it for me," he continued.

"I'm sure the ladies would _love_ that," Claire replied sarcastically. Doc smirked.

"…what the regiment did, _you_ weren't there," Claire could hear Cobb's voice from across the makeshift bar.

Claire looked over to see him bullying a young man with dark brown hair and pale skin. He looked as though someone had kicked his puppy. Cobb was a good man, Claire believed that, but he'd been in the army too long. Before Normandy and joining the paratroopers, he'd been with Infantry in North Africa where his boat was hit by a missile. He was cold, hard. He had firm beliefs about a woman's place in the Army, but he was smart to not vocalize his opinions.

"Hey Cobb, leave the kid alone," Claire scolded from where she was standing. The young man removed the citation from his uniform and placed it on the table, embarrassed. He got up to leave.

Randleman was looking at the citation, which had been on the kid's uniform, that now lay on the table.

"Shit Cobb, you didn't fight in Normandy neither," Randleman reminded. Claire tried her best to suppress the grin on her face. Bull Randleman was, in Claire's mind at least, one of the best NCOs in the company. He was smart and he looked after his men with care.

Cobb's face dropped, he didn't like being reminded that he didn't fight. He immediately turned to the other replacements and started explaining why he didn't jump.

"I got hit, and Lieutenant Rousseau wouldn't let me jump." Of course he would blame her.

"Oh sure, blame the little woman. Not like I saved your life or anythin'," Claire mumbled under her breath, just loud enough for Eugene to hear. Gene let out a laugh.

"Hey, y'all listen up!" Smokey called everyone's attention to the front of the room. Lipton was standing there. "This here's Carwood Lipton…"

"He's already married, Smokey," Malarkey joked raising a laugh from the soldiers.

"This here's Carwood Lipton, Easy Company's new First Sergeant," he announced. Claire thought Lipton was perfect for the job, he was a man they could all respect. He reminded her a lot of Dick in many aspects. Lipton was a great leader.

"And befitting to his position, he's got an announcement to make."

"Well, hate to break the mood here, but we're moving out again," Lipton announced. Suddenly the entire bar fell silent.

The veterans of D-Day knew this day would come but they were dreading it. The replacements, quite a few having heard the stories from Normandy, also had the same fearful looks on their faces. No one liked fighting. No one liked killing. But they had a job to do.

Claire stood at the front of the room next to the other officers as Dick explained Operation Market-Garden. They were going to parachute deep into occupied Holland. Their objective was to capture the road between Arnhem and Eindhoven and liberate Eindhoven. They were working with the British, much to the dismay of everyone. It would be a day time jump and they weren't expecting much opposition. If this worked, the war would be over by Christmas.

 _I can do 'til Christmas._

"Intelligence doesn't expect much. They think the Krauts in Holland are mostly old men and kids," Lew explained. "Regardless, say goodbye to England, I don't think their gonna call this one off."

* * *

 _September 17_ _th_ _1944_

Claire was finishing strapping herself into her harness. Eugene made sure it was nice and tight and she did the same for him. They were getting some more medical supplies.

"Holy shit," Muck said loud enough for Claire to hear. Claire looked up to see a jeep pulling up and sitting in the passenger seat was none other than Captain Sobel. Her eyes widened in surprise. She knew she should've expected him, but seeing his arrogant face after so long caught her off guard.

"What the hell's he doing here?" Malarkey asked.

"Is he… Oh man, if he's jumping…" Muck stammered.

"Don't worry, he ain't. He's our new regimental S-4," Claire explained, her initial shock wearing off.

"Supply officer?" Muck asked.

"Yep, guess they finally found somethin' he's good at." She looked over at Gene. "Doc, c'mon, gotta stock up before the jump."

Thankfully there weren't those god awful leg bags this time. They walked into the supply tent and saw Sobel there talking to the other supply officer. Sobel heard them come in and his eyes blazed with hatred. His eyes drifted down to the silver bar on her collar.

"Lieutenant Rousseau, Corporal Roe," the supply man, Sergeant Reynolds acknowledged them. He saluted her. "Here to stock up?"

"Yes we are," she answered. Reynolds started going through the supplies and gathering what the medics needed. "Captain Sobel."

She saluted politely, Gene did the same.

"Rousseau," he said as though her name was a foul taste in his mouth. The vein on his forehead bulged.

"I see they've promoted you again, congratulations sir," she told him. He glared. Claire got the feeling he was jealous that they were actually doing something while he was simply moving supplies around. He did not like that she was still here and his NCOs mutinied against him.

 _Not my fault you're an ass._

The tension in the tent was so thick she swore Smith would've skewered it with his bayonet. Thankfully, not long after, Reynolds came back with their full packs.

"Here you go," he said.

"Thank you Sergeant Reynolds."

"Good luck," he told them.

Claire gave a small grateful smile. She turned back towards Captain Sobel and saluted him before leaving.

When they got out of the tent, Claire bursted out into laughter.

"If looks could kill, Sobel'd win this damn war for us," she said.

"Forgot about how much he hated you," Gene replied. "Still don't understand why."

"Cause I'm still here," Claire stated. "C'mon, they're gonna start boardin' soon."

This time, Claire was in the same plane as Second Squad in First Platoon. Eugene was with First Squad of Second Platoon. They wished each other luck and said they would see each other in the DZ.

She once again sat towards the front next to Bull Randleman. They were not given airsickness pills this time. Claire did the same thing she did on the night of D-Day and began listing off medical information to try and keep the nerves at bay. The practice jumps they'd had had taken away Claire's fear of parachuting into a river like she had in Normandy.

The jump into Holland was the best jump Claire had ever had. It was bright and sunny, not a cloud in the sky. She landed in a lush field of grass. It was soft, cushiony, and most importantly, not water. She unclipped herself from the chute and started running along with the men. Equipment started raining from the sky, making it the only dangerous moment in that jump.

Surprisingly enough, there was no resistance as they made their way to Eindhoven. Claire bounced around from platoon to platoon. At the moment, she was back with Second Squad of First Platoon. She noticed how well Randleman took care of his men. They were walking through the open field, Claire looking around paranoid, ready for the first man to go down. A window opened and Claire crouched with the men.

"Wait," Randleman advised.

Out the window, a man was tying an orange flag so it hung out the window.

The streets of Eindhoven were filled with people cheering, singing, and waving flags. The colour orange was everywhere. They were free. The people were incredibly grateful. Claire kept being handed cheese and wine. She was tempted, but didn't drink the wine. She did, however, eat the cheese. She had to admit, Dutch cheese was much better than American. She'd lost most of the company in the crowds. She knew they needed to move to meet up with the British tanks.

"Pardon me," she said as she pushed through the crowd.

She caught sight of Lew and Dick not far to the side. Harry and Buck had joined them at the same time. Lew and Dick were hiding their collars.

"What's up, Welshy?" Buck asked.

"Snipers."

Claire and Buck followed suit in covering their bars. She knew Germans targeted officers. It probably wouldn't matter to them that she had the white band around her arm. They could claim it was an accident. It wouldn't be the first time it happened.

Not far away Claire saw a woman kissing Eugene. He looked as stiff as a board, very clearly not wanting that.

"I'll be back, gotta go rescue Doc," she told Lew. He looked over and laughed.

"See if you can find the other guys too," Lew replied.

Claire pushed her way across the square. An overly excited woman saw her coming and must've just seen the American flag on her uniform and nothing else as she pulled Claire up and kissed her directly on the lips. Claire's eyes were wide with surprise.

"Dank je," the woman said gratefully not looking at her face before running away.

Claire heard snickering behind her. She turned to see Christenson, Toye, Luz, and Heffron standing there.

"Not a word," she threatened.

"Was just gonna say you gotta bit of lipstick right there," Toye said as he pointed to under her lips.

Claire rolled her eyes and rubbed the lipstick off. She cursed in French, causing the men to laugh. They knew she mostly spoke French when she was swearing.

"She a good kisser, Russ?" Luz asked jokingly.

"Bout as good as your mother," she teased. Then she went back to business. "Captain Winters wants us to keep moving. Find your men and get them toge…"

Claire was cut off by the sound, over all the cheers, of a woman crying out. Claire pushed her way through the crowd and came upon a scene that shook her right to the core. There were women kneeling on the ground as men roughly cut their hair, ripped their clothes and painted swastikas on their foreheads. People angrily yelled at them, called them skanks and other Dutch slurs that Claire could only assume meant the same thing... whores. A few of the women had had the hair cut so closely to the scalp that it removed patches of skin.

Claire tried to push her way through the crowd. A hand pulled her back. She looked back to see it was Buck pulling her back.

"We have to stop this!" She yelled.

"Claire, we can't," he told her.

"Why the Hell not? What did they do?" She asked.

"They slept with the Krauts," was Buck's reply. Claire blazed with fury.

"SO?!" She angrily yelled. "They deserve to be humiliated, ostracized because of who they slept with? What if they didn't have a choice, Buck?"

"There's always a choice," he answered. Claire let out a laugh.

"Not if you're a woman!" She snapped back.

"We can't help them. We need the Dutch Resistance to help us," he explained.

Claire's nostrils flared. She looked back at the woman in a pink dress who was sobbing as the man chopped off her hair.

The woman locked eyes with Claire.

" _Why me?"_ She seemed to ask.

 _I'm sorry._ Was all she could think to respond. She hated this. She hated what they were going through. No one deserved this brand of humiliation. But there was nothing she could do. This was the world she lived in.

That night, Claire was sitting outside under the stars and had a lit cigarette in her hands. She looked up at the clear night sky and thought about the nights she would spend with her brother and father on the boat gazing up at the sky. She tried to remember the stories he would tell her, but found herself drawing a blank. Her hand went to the medallion around her neck. She slipped it off her neck and fiddled with it. Her finger traced the grooves of it. Strange how something so small carries such an impact for her.

"Claire?" Gene pulled her out of her daze. She quickly slipped the medallion in her musette bag and looked up to see him putting his weight on one leg.

"Gene, what the Hell'd you do?" Claire asked gesturing to his leg.

"It's nothin'," he replied.

Claire gave him a disbelieving look. "Uh-huh, c'mon, let me have a look at it. I'll even say please."

Gene lifted the pant leg to reveal a jagged cut in his calf, it was bandaged up.

"How'd you do that?" She asked.

"Stupid… I caught it on some barbed wire when we landed," Gene explained.

"Why didn't you say anythin'?" Claire asked.

"I can still walk and run. It'll be fine," he assured. "Ain't that deep."

"Gene… you should go to the aid station," she urged.

"I'm fine," he snapped. Just as stubborn as her.

"Fine. But if it gets worst, promise me you'll go."

"I promise."

"Meantime, stay off it."

"Yes, ma'am."

Claire didn't want to think of how bad it could've been. She didn't want to consider the possibility that Gene, just like her, may not make it through this war.

Gene sat down next to her and pulled out his own pack of smokes. There was something about Eugene Roe that Claire couldn't quite explain. He had a calming presence. She'd known this since the day she met him back in Toccoa. It was one of the things that made him an excellent medic. In a way, he reminded her of the _traiteuse_ from back home. He had a gift. He was a good, kind-hearted man. She was forever grateful that he was her friend.

 _Eugene Roe, ain't ever met a man like him before._

"You ever been in love, Gene?" Claire asked. She wasn't sure what brought on the question, perhaps she just didn't want to sit in silence for once.

"Mhm, her name was Mary," Gene explained. "I was sixteen years old."

"What was she like?" Claire asked.

"Pretty, sweet, proper," he told her. "I met her after we moved to Morgan City after the floods."

He knew that she knew what he was talking about. The floods in 1927 had been a very dark time for residents of Louisiana. Many people died and many lost their homes. Claire's family had lost practically everything that year. She was young, but she could remember that incident perfectly.

 _Those damn floods._

"At fifteen, I got a job on a farm not far from home. Mary was the farmer's daughter," he explained. "She liked to sing and bake. She would bring out lemonade and cookies. Prettiest girl I'd ever seen 'til then. Didn't think I ever stood a chance with her. But then it happened, we fell hard. We started dating when we were seventeen after I stopped working at her father's farm and got a job at a factory. We were happy for a while."

"What changed?"

Gene hesitated for a moment. "Pearl Harbor happened. I enlisted without tellin' her. She was fine at first, then after I volunteered for the paratroopers and started training… She told me she couldn't be with someone if she didn't know whether or not they were gonna live."

Claire was flabbergasted by this. How could someone do that to Eugene? He had one of the biggest hearts. Any girl would be lucky to have him. She gave him up because she thought he was going to die, that was a low blow.

"It's her loss," Claire told him.

"Were you ever?" Gene asked. She shook her head.

"Thought I was once… but, really, I only ever saw it," she admitted and then took another puff of the cigarette. "My parents. They went through Hell, but I don't think I ever saw two people happier in their lives."

Eugene didn't speak, instead he let Claire tell her story.

"My mom came from a rich family in Lafayette, my father came from a family of fishermen in Breaux Bridge. Normally, they never woulda met… but when the last Great War came along, my mom decided to volunteer to be a nurse… like mother like daughter I guess. Her family, on the other hand, didn't approve of her choice. _'Isn't proper for a young lady to be seeing such things…'_ " She said the last bit while imitating a grandmother she'd only met a few times, she'd certainly made an impression. "And when she came back from England with my father… that was the end. They gave her a choice: my father or her family, she chose my father."

She paused for a moment.

"They had nothin' but the clothes on their backs and their love for each other and they made it work."

"How'd she die?" Eugene asked. Claire froze. "I'm sorry… I shouldn't've asked."

"It's fine," she said. "I… I was young. I don't remember it much. What I know is what my father told me later… She was pregnant but she went into labor too early… there were some complications… I remember there being blood, a lot of it…"

She remembered peaking in the room, seeing Mrs. Maude there and a traiteuse from the town over. James found her looking in and pulled her away.

"And then… I remember a baby crying, but she wasn't strong enough. She didn't make it. I remember my father dropping to his knees, it was the first time I'd ever seen him cry. I couldn't understand what was happening. I knew nothing about death until then," she explained.

Eugene took her hand. She wiped away the stray tears that had fallen.

"After she died, my father never remarried. No one could ever replace her. That's what he always told me… He raised us on his own," She paused again. "No wonder I am the way I am."

"And what is that?" Gene asked

"My father always said that he may as well have raised two sons," she laughed. She stopped and looked down at the ground when the image of a woman being publicly humiliated drifted in her mind. "I wish he did. It'd be easier bein' a man. The world ain't a kind place for a woman."

She could feel Gene's sympathetic gaze on her.

"I like you the way you are," he told her. Claire looked up and smiled at him.

"I like me the way I am to. And you're not so bad, I guess," she said it in her usual joking tone. "Get some rest, Gene. I gotta feelin' we're gonna be busy tomorrow."

She always got that feeling on the line, and she was always right.

* * *

The next morning Claire rode on top of the tank. She basked in the sun and sat quietly. She was on the second tank sitting next to Luz. He nudged her and Claire looked up to see a woman standing on the side of the road with a small bundle in her arms. A baby. Claire recognized her from the square. The swastika faded from her forehead. Claire reached into her pack and pulled out a chocolate bar. She'd been saving it for when she would inevitably get her period but this woman needed it more than she did.

"Muck," she got his attention since he was walking next to the tank. She tossed him the chocolate bar and motioned for him to give it to the woman.

The woman looked at her and gave a small grateful smile. Claire gave a curt nod with a pitying look. It wasn't much, but it was something.

Not long after, the tanks stopped moving. Then, before they could do anything else, the first shot rang out. Luz pulled Claire down off the tank and they sprinted to the ditch.

"MEDIC!" Claire heard the cry and crawled out from the ditch.

"Russ!" Luz yelled after her as Claire ran towards the voice.

Around her, it was complete and utter chaos. There were bullets flying everywhere, soldiers too petrified to move and the NCOs running in the ditch to get them moving. Claire ran and saw Lieutenant Brewer on the ground holding his neck and another medic, Albert Mampre was on the ground, his leg bleeding. Claire went over and worked on Brewer first. She pressed a bandage to his neck, trying to stop the bleeding as best she could. She applied the sulfa and wrapped the bandage around. Claire did not want to give him morphine since he'd already lost so much blood that the pain may be the only thing keeping him alive at this point. She then moved on to Albert.

"Where you hit, Mampre?" She asked.

"Lower thigh," he grunted out.

"Okay, I got you." She applied a tourniquet to his leg, put sulfa on the wound, and then bandaged it.

"STRETCHER!" She yelled out. Soon, two men came by. She pointed to Brewer. "Take him first!"

They did as she said. A few minutes later, they came back and took Mampre away. Claire took off running towards the town of Nuenen. Already, she saw the bodies of her fellow American soldiers. She did not look at their faces and kept running.

Claire ducked behind a cart as it suddenly got very quiet. The British tanks were pulling into town. She saw Martin and Heffron going to the British tanks. Claire used this to get in deeper. She ran and leapt over top of a short brick wall.

She moved around, and eventually found Luz, Penkala, Sisk, and Guarnere. They were hidden along the wall.

"Where the Hell did you come from?" Luz asked as she popped up out of nowhere.

"Breaux Bridge, Louisiana," she replied. "Have you seen Doc?" Normally, she and Eugene would at least start together and then separate. They didn't get that this time. She worried about him.

"Not since Brewer went down," Muck told her.

"What are they doing?" Malarkey asked. There's a Tiger Tank hidden around the corner.

Things moved very fast after that. The first British tank was blown up. Then the Tiger started moving.

"Shit," Bill cursed.

The first blast struck the building behind them, the ground below her shook.

"Move! Move!" Bill ordered and ushered her away.

Bullets were ripping through the air. They ran for cover behind one of the nearby buildings.

"FALL BACK!" She heard Bull Randleman yell from not too far away.

"Luz! Radio in!" Bill ordered.

There was so much chaos around her. Men were running. A few of them were dropping to the ground as more bullets ripped through the air. She had to get to them. She moved off the brick only to be pulled back by Sisk.

"The Hell are you doing?" He asked.

"There are wounded!" She replied loudly.

"…WE ARE COVERED IN INFANTRY!" Luz yelled into the radio.

Claire cast another look at the downed soldier, who was moving a bit on the road. She had a job to do. She broke away from the brick wall once more and started running out in the open. She could barely hear her friends calling out her name. She got to the soldier and quickly grabbed him by the collar to pull him to a brick wall where she could properly bandage him up.

"FALL BACK!" She heard Bill yell.

"RUSS!"

She dragged the soldier until a sharp, hot pain hit her shoulder. Claire dropped to the ground on the impact. This wasn't like when she got shot in Normandy. This was a full, direct hit.

Claire stood up, the adrenaline pumping through her veins.

"RUSS!" She looked over to see Sisk first.

"I'm o-"

She heard the mortar hit the ground then it exploded not two feet away. The blast propelled her back and knocked her into the brick. And then, the world around her went black.

* * *

"RUSS!" Luz heard Skinny yell. He looked over and saw her lying on the ground, blood on the ground. The soldier she tried to help was dead now.

 _Christ. No._

"Penk, with me!" Luz grabbed his friend and the two of them sprinted out to the road. He saw her leg, her shoulder, and a few other spots were bleeding.

 _Please, be alive._

With all the shit around them, they didn't have time to check. Luz grabbed her underneath her armpits and Penk grabbed her by the legs.

"Go! Go!"

"Stay with us, Russ," Luz begged.

There were whizzing ripping through the air. Luz and Penkala ran as fast as they could. Luckily, Russ wasn't all that heavy.

 _Please be alive._

"MEDIC!" Penkala yelled the closer they got to the rear. Everyone around them was running away from the fight.

She'd been right there one second, and then the next… she was on the ground.

"MEDIC!" Penkala yelled once more.

Russ is their girl. They can't lose her now. He should've stopped her.

"DOC!" Luz yelled. They got close to the jeeps now. "We made it Russ. It's gonna be okay."

"Claire!" Captain Nixon yelled when they got close.

"DOC!" Luz yelled.

"She alive?" Captain Nixon asked.

He spotted the red cross darting towards them. He stopped when he saw who they were carrying. Luz had never seen so many emotions pass over Doc's face.

"Here, over here!" Roe ordered. Penk and Luz followed Doc to one of the trucks. Gently, and with the help of Guarnere and Martin who were already on the truck, they lifted her on. Doc immediately set off to work.

Luz sat on the bench, his hands shaking. Russ is his friend.

"She alive, Doc?" Luz asked.

Doc said nothing. He was simply wrapping a bandage as best he could in a now moving truck.

"Doc?" Guarnere asked now.

He then wrapped a bandage around her shoulder. Luz looked at his friend, trying to see any hint that she was still alive.

 _You should've stayed down._ He'd told her that back in basic. He'd begged for her to stay down. He kept hoping she'd wash out because, God, he really didn't want to have to look after her while trying to keep himself alive. But she proved that she could handle it. Hell, she saved his life in Normandy. She practically dragged Alley five kilometers with an injured arm.

 _Come on Russ, I knocked you on your ass twelve times and you kept getting up._

Almost as if on cue, he saw her hand twitch as Doc placed the plasma drip.

She was still alive. Luz breathed a sigh of relief.

* * *

Eugene looked down at the unconscious body of his best friend he couldn't help but have a sick terrified feeling in his gut. She was alive, that's what mattered. They were retreating when Luz and Penkala came running carrying her. He'd just gotten back. Then he heard Captain Nixon yelling her name and then the call for a medic.

When he saw her, he thought she was dead. Her skin was pale, she had blood covering her uniform. But then he checked her pulse and found one. He pushed the fear he had about seeing her and set off to work. Claire was the one person he'd prayed he'd never had to have bleeding under his hands.

Based on his assessment, Claire had a gunshot wound to the shoulder, just below the collarbone. She also caught a decent sized piece of shrapnel to the lower thigh area. Any lower and it would've hit the knee, taking her off the line for good. It was bleeding a lot. Luckily the plasma would keep her from going into shock. He hadn't had the chance to get a good look at the leg yet. Things happened so fast… it was one medic call after another. Last he saw her before heading into town was her trying to stop the bleeding from Lieutenant Brewer's neck.

"She gonna be okay, Doc?" Sergeant Guarnere asked him.

He nodded. She was alive.

He couldn't imagine what it would be like if she wasn't around. In Normandy, he got to the rally point a few hours before Claire got there. Those hours, he kept waiting for her to show up, say his name. He kept himself distracted by working in the aid station, but he had that nagging feeling of worry over her.

Claire was easily the person he was closest to in the company. She was the only one who understood what his war experience was. She helped him, taught him things she knew but their instructors didn't. But it wasn't just that. She was warm, and kind, and funny, and sweet.

"Where's Bull?" Guarnere now asked Sergeant Martin on his other side.

"Don't know."

"Fucking Christ…"

Claire was hit. Randleman was left behind. Lieutenant Compton was shot. Brewer, Mampre, and a number of others were wounded. Van Klinken was shot and would probably not make it. There were at least four dead from what he'd heard. Now they were running away, tail between their legs. It was a bad time for Easy Company.

When they got back to the CP, the wounded were evacuated to the aid station. Claire among them. Van Klinken had died on the truck ride. Lieutenant Brewer was going to make it. Claire had gotten there just in time.

Gene spent the better part of the day at the aid station. Buck Compton would be fine. As would Mampre. Claire woke up briefly when they got to the aid station. She cried out in agony. He gave her some morphine and she eventually lost consciousness once more.

The piece of shrapnel missed the bone but it still tore muscle. Claire would have a limp for a while but she would be fine. The doctors repaired the damage and stitched her up. The hole in her shoulder was easily patched up. The bullet had nicked the collar bone, which meant it would be in a sling for at least a few weeks. She had more shrapnel on her side and Eugene picked out the bits.

"Doc, how's Lieutenant Rousseau?" Captain Nixon asked once Eugene returned from the aid station.

"She'll be fine," he assured. "She woke up… They're evacuating the wounded to the field hospital."

"Oh she's gonna hate that," Captain Nixon muttered under his breath. "Good, and Buck?"

"Fine, they're evacuating him too."

"Good."

He'd never had a real conversation with Captain Nixon before.

"I should dig in."

"Of course. Thanks for the update, Doc," Nixon said. Eugene knew how close Claire and Captain Nixon were.

Eugene dug his foxhole and then went inside. He took out the rope he used as a type of rosary and started praying. He was used to this feeling. His friends, men he trained with for over a year, would most likely wind up on the ground bleeding at some point or another. But he never thought it would be Claire.

Now, he would have to do this without her. He'd come to rely on her quite a bit. He was a capable medic and was damn good at his job, and he could do it without her, but he didn't want to. He liked things better with her around.

* * *

 **I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I know when I originally wrote it, and when I rewrote it, it was one of my favourite things. Next chapter we get to see Claire in the hospital.** **Please let me know what you thought. I love reading your comments. Thank you to everyone who reviewed!**


	8. Purple Hearts

_Six weeks later_

 _Don't stop._

 _Never stop._

 _The trees whipped past her as Claire sprinted through the woods. Bullets zipped past her._

" _Diesen Weg!" She heard the enemy soldier yell._

 _Keep going. She had to keep moving. She was drenched from head to toe having just crawled out of a river. Claire ran until her feet were lifted from under her, sending her soaring to the ground. She looked over her shoulder to see that she'd tripped over the corpse of a dead soldier. His eyes wide open and staring at her. She recognized him._

" _No…" She muttered. No it can't be._

" _Go! Run!" The familiar voice echoed._

 _She was no longer in the woods, but in the belly of a ship. The water was rushing in. Metal beams, came crashing down around her. Fire and water intermingled together. She saw a man with his legs pinned under a fallen beam. Another man tried to free him. She knew both of them._

" _JAMES!" She yelled at the top of her lungs. He couldn't hear her._

 _The man stopped and looked down at her brother. James slipped something off his neck._

" _Get this to my sister," James pleaded handing it to his best friend._

" _JAMES! NO!" Claire screamed and yelled until she was blue in the face. James looked up and locked eyes with her. The water filled the belly of the ship. Her brother struggled against the beam as his head slipped under water._

 _He faded away in the darkness, Claire still crying out for him._

Claire's eyes shot open in the darkened hospital room. Unconsciously, she went to touch the medallion around her neck, and felt that same emptiness when she remembered it was gone. She must've lost it sometime in Holland. The hospital in England was drab and depressing. Claire was kept separate from the men. She had her own private room. Still, she went and visited the wounded from Easy. She often went to see Buck, Brewer, and Mampre. Buck seemed fine when she would go see him. They would joke around and laugh, but she knew the minute she walked away, his smile was gone, she knew it because hers vanished as well.

Her first week in the hospital, Claire was not allowed to leave her bed. She'd received a Purple Heart, which was now kept in her musette bag in its box. Claire was always kind to the nurses but she got annoyed with being immobilized. Her arm had been in a sling until last week. The nurses often whispered about her, as though uncertain of how to approach her.

Claire couldn't remember how she got here. The last thing she could recall from before she woke up in England was Eugene. She could remember the pain that seemed to cover every inch of her. She remembered being terrified and alone… until she wasn't.

" _Claire?" He asked._

 _She looked around frantically, confused about where she was, how she got there, what happened_.

" _You're okay," he assured her. He took her by the hand._

" _I-I…" her voice cracked. "I-It h-hurts."_

 _There was so much pain._

" _It's okay. I've got you," he assured as he stuck the syrette of morphine in her arm._

Not long after that did she drift of to sleep and next thing she knew, she was in the hospital.

New wounded would come in every day and Claire knew there was nothing she could do to help them. They cried out for their mothers and begged for the pain to end. She saw men stare off into the abyss blankly, as though they were dead, though the breathing proved otherwise. On her walks, she would go outside where she occasionally crossed paths with those blank-staring men.

One day in particular, Claire was outside. It was a rare sunny day in England. A soldier was sitting out in the sun in his wheelchair. Both his legs were amputated. He looked much too young to have that troubled of a look on his face. Claire was sitting on the bench next to him. He had light brown hair with empty green eyes.

"All my friends…" he mumbled barely loud enough for her to hear. "Gone…"

Claire pulled out her pack and gave him a cigarette. She lit it for him.

A nurse later told her that he was one of the last remaining wounded from Normandy. He'd lost both his legs and was shot in the chest, his lung collapsed. His friends, she found out, had all been blown to hell by a German tank. He was the only one who made it out. She thought about the look in the young man's eyes.

"He's very lucky to be alive," Nurse Robbins told her.

 _Lucky? My God, he's better off dead._

Colonel Sink had come by about a week after she'd arrived. He came to give her reassignment papers to go back to the Army Nurses Corps.

"Sir?" Claire looked at the papers curiously. "Has my work been unsatisfactory? Have I slipped below the standard?"

"No, you've done a fine job, Lieutenant," he answered.

"Then I don't understand why I'm being reassigned," she replied.

"You were wounded," was his comeback.

"Sir, plenty of men have been wounded. I should know. I'm one of the people tasked with puttin' 'em back together," she said. "This has nothin' to do with my wounds. This is because I'm a woman, but sir, I've earned my place. I've worked too long and too hard to be sent away now. I belong out there with my men."

Colonel Sink looked at her and had the slightest hint of a grin on his face. Claire swallowed, not knowing what it meant.

"Sir, this project was designed to test women on the front line. Men get wounded, and most of the time they heal and are sent right back. Men who are worst off than me. Unless the quality of my work slips, then I should not be reassigned, sir," she desperately reasoned.

She did not enjoy war, but she'd be damned if she would stay and work in a hospital like this one. Not when she ought to be out there helping soldiers.

"You understand, Lieutenant Rousseau, that next time you may not be so lucky," he replied.

 _Lucky._

"I understand, Sir," she acknowledged. "I can handle it."

"Heal up, then get back out there, Lieutenant."

"Yes, sir," she saluted. He had a small proud twinkle in his eye. He'd been hoping this was the choice she'd make.

Claire sat with Buck as often as she could. She could see the change of demeanor in the man. He was no longer his funny, cocky self. Instead he was much more serious. He had that look in his eye Claire saw in all the wounded here. She had it herself, that long pensive stare because all you can do is think. She was reminded of how quickly and swiftly her life could end.

Claire came to the conclusion that there are two mentalities that happen in war. The first is: 'It won't happen to me. I've trained too hard, am too loved, am too handsome to die'. The other comes after: 'This can happen to me. It does not matter who I am.'

Despite all the talk about understanding death, Claire did not completely believe it would happen to her. She'd almost gotten blown up in Carentan yet still ran without a moment of hesitation into Nuenen. It was her job. It was what she signed up for.

That day, Claire sat by Buck's bed. They didn't talk about what happened, normally they played cards and talked about home. Buck talked about his girl and how he played in the Rose Bowl. He was an all-star catcher for UCLA. He also played football. Claire didn't talk much about her life back home. She let Buck do most of the talking. It made him feel better. Today, they didn't say anything as they played cards.

"What did you mean back in Holland?" Buck asked her after a while.

"Hm?"

"Back in Holland, when I said 'there's always a choice' and you told me 'not if you're a woman', what did you mean by that?" He specified.

"I meant what I said," she answered vaguely.

"But what does that mean?"

She hesitated for a moment, trying to formulate the best way to explain to a man one of the biggest fears every woman has or has had.

"It means… when men decide they want something, they do whatever they want to get it," she explained. "Back when I was finishing my nursing program, I worked in a hospital in New Orleans. There was this surgeon there and he always lookin' at the nurses. More than once I got my butt pinched, or slapped. But I ignore it because that's the way it is. We started walking around in pairs. Safety in numbers and all that. But… one of the nurses, Kathy –a tiny cute blonde, went to the supply closet alone. I didn't see it… but I heard her crying in the dorm that night, and every night. Finally, I figured out what happened…"

Claire drifted off for a moment. "He said that if she told anyone, he would get her fired. No one would listen to her, that it was her word against his. That he would get her blacklisted and she would never work again…"

Buck stayed quiet.

"That's what it's like to be a woman. We have no power. Unlike me, women don't have military training to defend themselves. So… if you've got something to lose… you do what you need to do. Whether it's keeping quiet or sleep with the enemy… it's survival. That ain't a choice."

"You would've slept with a Kraut if it was you?" Buck asked.

"If it meant keeping my family alive, or whatever I hold dear… I would do whatever it took."

She didn't look up to see Buck's pitying and wondering gaze.

"It's your turn," she said as they continued to play cards.

The hospital was a dark hole of despair. There were soldiers with lost limbs, severe burns, all sorts of injuries. The smell of cooked flesh would never leave her.

She often heard men screaming at night because of nightmares. Not being on the line, and being away from her friends, allowed Claire to not only think but remember. She was plagued by nightmares. Claire often found herself remembering D-Day. She could almost taste the cool river water that tried to kill her. She could smell the gunpowder from the bullet she used to kill a man. She remembered the face of every man she'd saved and those she didn't. She thought about the woman with the baby, how they would never find acceptance because of who the child's father was. Claire thought about the woman in the pink dress staring at her as she sobbed.

 _Why me?_

Claire had been asking herself that for a long time. Why was it her instead of all the other qualified nurses? Why was she still alive when her brother, mother, sister, and father were all dead? Why did she get hit? _Why? Why? Why?_ It was stupid to wonder. No one could answer questions that big. Well, God could, but conversations with the almighty tended to be very one sided. At this point, she was having a hard time believing in Him.

Her time also gave her a chance to write. She wrote letters to Eleanor, though she didn't receive anymore from her. She'd bought herself another small journal in Ireland, though she was running out of space to write now. She still kept the German journal with her.

' _October 17_ _th_ _1944_

 _Dear James,_

 _I've been in the hospital for over a month now. My leg is healing. My limp has gotten better; I can hardly notice it. A nurse, a nice older woman from Paris, takes me on walks every day. It seems to make her sad that I am a woman in the army, but the more we talk, the more she seems to understand. I told her about you yesterday._

 _I long to see my men again, from what I've heard from the few who have been wounded and sent here, they are still in Holland trying to hold the line. I do not long for combat, merely to see my friends. I want to make sure they are still safe._

 _I do not want to die, James, though I've come to accept a long time ago that I cannot decide when the Reaper will come for me. Being here, seeing some clinging to life by a thread, I cannot help but think of how lucky I was. Bill Guarnere, a man I consider to be a close friend, once told me that I must have an angel watching over me. Perhaps it is not an angel, but you. Since entering combat back in June, I have had three brushes with death, and every time I think to myself 'Maybe it won't be so bad'. I know you would hate me thinking like that… But I am grateful to be alive, I want to see the world without war. Though I can hardly remember it now._

 _There are so many men in here that were not as lucky as me, and I cannot help but pity them. I am not sure how much longer I can bear to stay in this hospital. I do not want to be reassigned to another unit as I have worked so hard to earn the respect of this one. Perhaps Popeye Wynn was right in going AWOL from the hospital before our jump into Holland._

 _As always, I miss you everyday._

 _Love always,_

 _Your sister._

 _PS. Happy birthday.'_

The decision had been all but made. She would not be staying in this hospital any longer. She needed to be back with the men. She knew the army would keep her here as long as possible and that was the last thing she wanted. Seeing her men coming in wounded, Claire knew her place was there. Not here.

She was walking through the hospital one day when she saw someone very familiar lying in a bed, his leg in a cast.

"Bill?" Claire questioned.

"Hey, Russ, how's it going?" He played it off.

"The Hell happened to you?" She asked.

"Sniper got me in the leg when I was on a motorcycle," he explained. "Fucking bike broke my leg. Got a piece of shrapnel in my ass."

"How're you feelin'?" She asked.

"Like I wanna get outta here and back to the guys," he answered.

"I get that. I hate bein' here while they're out there," she replied. "You know where they are?"

"Some town named Schoonderloght," he told her. It was almost as if he could see the wheels turning in her mind. "What're you gonna do, Russ?"

"Don't worry about it, Bill," she said.

"Tell 'em I say 'hi'."

Claire winked and then went back to her walk.

She went outside and saw the young soldier in his chair, staring out in the abyss. Claire took a spot on the bench beside him. They never spoke, but Claire always gave him a smoke. She didn't know his name. She did this every day, though she didn't know if he noticed. He would simply sit there, stare, and mutter the occasional thing.

Today was different, he took the cigarette, and his eyes lingered on her. Claire lit her own.

"What happened to you?" It was the first time he'd ever actually spoken to her.

"I got shot and got shrapnel in my thigh," she replied.

"What's your name?"

"Rousseau… Claire. What's yours?" She asked.

"James," he said. She stiffened at the name. "James MacArthur."

Claire looked down at her hands.

"I saw you before," he told her. Her head tilted in curiosity. "In Normandy… I was part of the 4th Division Infantry. I couldn't believe it when I saw a woman there. Then a man went down and you ran to him. Saw you do it three more times… Guess this shit gets us all."

"I guess so," she replied inhaling from the cigarette. She took out the rest of her pack and handed it to him. "Here… I'm goin' back to the line."

He gave her a pitying look. "I'm sorry."

"My choice. Can't leave my men behind," she explained.

Claire gave him a small curt smile before she got up off the bench.

"I hope when you die it's quick," James MacArthur told her. His eyes returned to that frozen, haunted look he'd had before. "I hope it's a sniper, not artillery. Quick, painless, and you'll still look like you."

Claire wasn't sure how to respond to him. James MacArthur looked back to the horizon, Claire's pack of smokes in his hand. She gave him one last look before turning and walking away.

* * *

The opportunity came when Claire was granted a twelve hour leave to the village. She put on her uniform that morning, with her musette bag, the excuse being that she wanted to buy things, and tucked her journal back in her jacket pocket and headed out. She was only supposed to be gone from the hospital for the day, but the moment Claire was far enough away, she found a ride.

Two trucks, a boat, and nearly three full days of travel, Claire arrived in Schoonderloght. She got a ride from a supply officer who was delivering whatever supplies they could.

"Thanks for the ride," she told him as she tossed him a pack of Lucky Strikes. She grabbed her rucksack and started through the town. She asked a soldier where she could find Dick or Lew and after his initial shock of seeing a woman, he tells her where to go.

Claire walked over to the CP. It was in a farmhouse on the outside of town. She walked in the house and dropped her sack on the ground. A small, skinny man walked into the room.

"Miss?" He asked.

"It's Lieutenant," she corrected him. "Where's Captain Winters?"

"He's upstairs, ma'am," he said hesitantly.

"Thank you, Private."

Claire walked slowly up the stairs, her leg still stiff and sore. She could hear the click-clacking of a typewriter. There was also some talking going on. She knocked at the wall, letting whoever it was know someone was coming up.

"Enter," Dick's voice rang.

Claire walked up the steps and saw there was Dick sitting behind a desk, with Lew sitting across from him. Dick looked up.

"Claire?" He questioned. Lew looked back. His face broke into a smile.

"What're you doing sitting behind a desk?" Claire asked.

"What're you doing here?" Dick asked.

"Went AWOL," she shrugged. "Hospital got boring. Guarnere told me where y'all were."

Lew laughed.

"Harry owes me ten bucks," Lew declared proudly. "Knew you wouldn't last in some hospital."

"Nice to see you too Lew," she replied. Claire took the seat next to Lew. "So, what'd I miss?"

She listened as they began telling her about some of the things she'd missed while being in the hospital. MARKET-GARDEN had fallen on its ass, and Easy Company with the rest of the 506th were left trying to defend the Rhine. They were the only ones with the Germans on the German side of the line.

"Old men and kids, huh Lew?"

"Yeah, yeah, shut up."

"'We'll be done the war by Christmas'," she continued to mock.

"Yep, novelty's worn off," he replied.

"I'm just messin' with you. Got six weeks of teasing to catch up on."

"Dick? Can we take her back?" Lew asked.

Dick laughed.

"Nope, you're stuck with me," she responded. "Is that all I missed?"

"Oh, and Dick's not the CO anymore," Lew finished. Claire gave Dick a disbelieving look. "Guts and Glory got promoted. He's in charge of the whole Battalion now."

"Wow, congratulations, Dick," she said trying her best to sound sincere. She was happy for him, but this meant she would need to work with another CO who might not be as accepting as Dick was. "Hard to imagine Easy without you in charge."

"Yeah, he agrees," Lew told her.

"Who's in charge now?" She asked.

"Moose Heyliger," Dick told her.

"I remember him. Good man," she nodded in approval.

"He's leading his first mission as Easy's CO tonight," Lew continued. "Operation Pegasus."

"Hell of a time to come back then," she replied. She got up from her seat at the desk. "I'll let you get back to… whatever it is you're doin'. I should get to work."

Lew got up and hugged her. She'd missed him while she was gone.

"It's good to see you, Claire."

"Missed you too, Lew." He let her go.

Dick got up from behind the desk, came around and wrapped an arm around her.

"I'm glad you're okay."

"Same to you."

She felt better than she had in weeks being back on the line with her men. _There is truly something wrong with me if I'm happier in the fray then away from it._

* * *

"Well holy shit." Claire turned around to see Luz, and Muck standing there. Their uniforms were ragged and filthy. They all had dark circles under their eyes from lack of sleep. They looked like Hell. "Look at what the cat dragged in."

"Hiya boys, missed me?" She asked.

"Nah, barely even noticed," Muck joked. The men came over and clapped her on the shoulder.

"Welcome back, Russ."

"They finally let you out, huh?" Muck asked.

"Yeah… For twelve hours and I didn't go back."

Luz smiled at her and patted her on the back.

"That's our girl," he told her.

"Where's Doc?" Claire asked.

"Dunno, could be at the barracks," Luz told her.

"We'll walk you there. On our way back now from the OP."

The barracks were on the right side of the small town. It was a barn, much like the enlisted men's barracks had been in Aldbourne, only this was much less comfortable. They did not have bunks, instead they slept on the ground. Ask any soldier who had lived in a foxhole for any amount of time, and they would say that even the ground of a barn was more favourable. They had a roof over their heads, that was something. There were men playing cards, others cleaning their rifles. She didn't see Gene among them. They all had the same tired, tattered look on their faces as Muck and Luz did.

There were new faces that she didn't recognize in the room. At first no one seemed to notice their arrival. That is, until Malarkey looked up from his hand and did a double take.

"Holy shit," he said in a surprised voice. The rest of the guys at the table, along with a few others who sat around the barn looked up. "Russ?"

"Hi," she greeted. She got a few weird glances from the new replacements.

"Russ went AWOL to come back to us," Luz told them. There were men around her in an instant. They greeted her, clapped her on the back, and welcomed her back.

"I couldn't in good conscience let y'all go without me," she told them. "Someone's gotta make sure you boys don't do anything too stupid."

"Where's Doc?" Claire asked once the men let her go.

"Probably the aid station," Lipton suggested.

"And where's that?" Claire asked.

"'bout three buildings down that way," Malarkey pointed.

"Thanks. I'll be back," she assured.

"Good to see you, Russ," Toye told her as she was leaving. "Welcome home."

If someone had told her two years ago that she would be standing in Holland with a group of soldiers that had become her family, Claire would have laughed in their faces. Strange how time and war changes things.

Claire walked over to the aid station to find Gene sitting outside on a bucket with his back against the wall. A cigarette dangled from his lips. He looked tired. They all did.

"I'm gone for six weeks and you're slackin'?" Claire joked. Gene looked at her and blinked, almost as though he couldn't believe she was there.

"Claire," he said her name. She missed the way he said it.

"Hey Gene," she greeted. Gene got up from his bucket and hugged her. She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tight.

When they broke apart, Claire took a seat on another turned over bucket like his. She straightened out her leg since it was starting to hurt.

"You okay?" He asked. "The leg and everything?"

"I'm okay," she told him. "It's sore, but I couldn't stay there anymore." Her mind drifted back to James MacArthur. "You okay?"

He nodded. "Been a long time."

"What happened while I was gone? I got the highlights but not the whole thing."

He was quiet for a little bit. "We lost Dukeman, and some others."

Claire gave him a sympathetic look. Dukeman was a Toccoa man, she'd known him, trained with him.

"Alley got hit by a potato masher. Boyle got hit but he's gonna be okay. Same with Webster."

"What happened?" Claire asked swallowing her guilt. Maybe, if she'd been there, she could've helped them.

"Same thing that always happens," he answered. "What's the hospital like?"

Claire pushed away the images of the empty shells of men devoid of emotion. She didn't want to think about James MacArthur telling her he hoped a sniper would kill her so it would be fast.

"It's…" she drifted off. "It's not a place I want to go back to."

She'd worked in a hospital before, but it wasn't anything like the one she'd been to. Maybe it was different because she was a patient as opposed to a nurse. She decided not to tell him yet about Sink trying to reassign her back to the Nurse Corps.

"I'm glad you're back," he told her. "We missed you."

"I missed you too," she replied. "And I'm glad you're okay. How's your leg?"

"All healed up. I told you it was fine," he jokingly reminded her.

"I still think you shoulda gone to the aid station," she replied.

"Comin' from the one who went AWOL from the hospital," he countered.

"Guess I shouldn't be one to talk," she replied with a smirk. "So, when's this Operation Pegasus going down?"

"Tonight. I guess we're stayin' here and waiting for any wounded," he explained.

"Just like old times then," she said.

"Welcome back."

Claire leaned back and rested against the wall. She was home.

* * *

 **The story Claire tells Buck about the nurse who was assaulted was inspired off a story I read in a book not too long ago. Sexual assault is not something I'm comfortable writing. Even writing that little snippet took me a while because I had to keep stopping to compose myself. However, it was still something I had to address, especially after that scene with the women in Eindhoven. I hope that I did it right.**

 **Let me know what you think.**


	9. Mourmelon

Prior to jump off time, Claire went and found Lieutenant Heylinger. They knew each other from Toccoa, though not well. He wasn't opposed to her being there, in fact he was relieved that there was another officer who knew the men since that first day in Georgia. She'd also bumped into Harry, who was happy she was back.

Operation Pegasus went off without a hitch. There was one Brit who'd been wounded before the rescue, so they fixed him up. There was a party going on in the mess hall. Claire thought about joining but ultimately decided not to. She wasn't exactly in the 'party' mood. She went to her bunk in the Officers barracks.

Easy Company didn't stay long in Schoonderloght after that. They moved to another small town named Driel on the line. Things were a lot calmer here. Claire found herself falling into the same routine she had before being wounded. They set up the aid station in an old school building. She also wrote letters to Buck and Bill who were still at the hospital. She couldn't write the exact name of the town they were at, just in case, but she told him they were still in Holland. She knew Bill would be back soon.

Moose was a good leader, not as good as Dick, but up there. He went on patrols with the men, he commanded well. Still, there were times where he seemed a little intimidated. She could understand that it was tough coming and leading a company, who for the most part had trained together and fought for almost three years. Most of the replacements blended together for Claire. The strangest thing happened, she could hear whispers among the replacements. They weren't like the ones from before, spiteful and hateful, this was different.

There were rumours going around about her, not like the last time though. These ones were about how she got wounded, what she did in Normandy. She overheard one story about how she single handedly carried six soldiers to safety in Carentan. Another about how she defended a wounded soldier from a German patrol. All of them were greatly exaggerated.

"What did y'all do?" Claire asked Muck one day when she sat with them while they had their few moments of down time.

"Do what, Russ?" Muck replied innocently.

"You're tellin' me you had nothin' to do with those replacements lookin' at me like I'm some sort of mythical creature?" Claire retorted.

"Well, you do sort of have that Medusa stare," Luz teased. Claire glared. "Yeah, that's the one."

"Maybe if I stare long enough at the Krauts they'll turn to stone," she offered jokingly. "But seriously, what did y'all tell 'em?"

"The truth, Russ," Muck fessed up. "That's it. They asked about Normandy so we told 'em some stuff. That included some stuff about you."

"How much did you exaggerate?" She asked.

"Not much," Muck replied.

"Anything else?" Claire pressed.

"Oh, we did forget to tell 'em one thing," Luz remembered. She gave him a pointed look.

"You didn't tell 'em I was a woman, did you?" Luz grinned coyly at her. "You are a bad man."

"But you gotta admit, the look on their faces when they figured out you were Russ… priceless."

Claire smirked. "Yeah, was kinda funny."

The replacements continued to look at her like they were waiting to see if she was who the men told them about. Claire wasn't sure if she was that person anymore. The hospital changed her in some ways. She could still do her job, that much was certain. It was her duty, her responsibility, to look after these guys, and she'd be damned if she'd let them down again.

* * *

It was Halloween, a relatively quiet night. Claire and Gene were playing cards in the hospital. She was winning.

"Thought you said you weren't any good?" Gene asked in a light tone as Claire beat him again.

"To be fair, I said it's been awhile since I played, which it has… Just so happens last time I won 400$ off Speirs, Welsh, and Nixon," she explained.

"You hustled me," he deduced.

"Ain't like we're gamblin'," she told him. "I don't gamble with enlisted men."

"That why you gave the money back from the pool?" He asked.

"Yep. I'm still an officer, didn't feel right takin' from you."

"I didn't put any money in," he told her. Claire looked up from her hand and gave him an odd look.

"Really? Not even a nickel?" She asked.

"Nope."

"I woulda bet against me," she admitted.

"Nah, I knew you were too damn stubborn to quit," he reminded. "I saw it when Sobel made you walk to the back. You kept your head held high like nothing could touch you."

If only he knew that she kept her head up to keep from looking at the men so she wouldn't see the looks on their faces.

"Stubbornness, bitterness, and spite fueled me through those first weeks at Toccoa," she recalled.

"Bitterness?"

"I was alone. No one wanted me there. No one would talk to me," she reminded.

"You didn't talk to anyone either," he countered. "I tried."

"You did?" Claire questioned.

"Mhm, but when we weren't trainin', you would kind of just… shut off," he explained.

"I didn't know. I thought everyone was against me."

"Makes sense why ya did," he told her.

"Medic!" Someone yelled. Both Claire and Gene got up from their chair and ran up to the entrance. They got in the ambulance and it drove off.

Neither of them spoke but the trip wasn't long. They stopped not far from one of the OPs and met up with a jeep. Claire opened the ambulance door and both of them stepped out with a stretcher.

 _Here we go._ Claire saw Dick and Harry, along with a young replacement getting out. Moose was slumped over in one of the seats.

"What happened?" Claire asked.

"Shot," was all Dick said.

"Gene, gotta get him on the stretcher," she instructed. They laid the stretcher down and then moved on to lifting Moose gently out of the jeep and lying him down. He was calm but Claire couldn't see any syrettes pinned to his jacket.

"Did you give him morphine?" Claire asked. "How much?"

"Two maybe three syrettes," Harry said uncertainly. Claire looked at him in disbelief.

"Two maybe three?" Gene replied flabbergasted. "Are you tryin' to kill him?!"

"He was in a lot of pain, Doc," he defended.

"I think it was two," Dick spoke. Claire blazed in fury. Gene and the ambulance driver were lifting Moose into back of the ambulance.

"You think?! Jesus Christ!" Claire yelled. "Don't you think it woulda been important to know how much medication he's had?! There is not one syrette pinned to his jacket! You're lucky that he's big enough that he might still stand a chance!"

"We didn't know," Harry replied.

"Yeah well you oughta!" Gene snapped. "You are officers. You are grown ups. You oughta know!"

Claire climbed in the ambulance after Gene and barked at the driver to go. Dick shut the door behind them and they drove off.

On the ride back, Claire was taking note of Moose's wounds and keeping an eye on his pulse.

"Gene, keep pressure on the shot to his side," Claire ordered. She quickly wrote up the tag for Moose, indicating not to give him any more morphine, seeing as they didn't know how much he'd had.

When they arrived back at the field hospital, Claire went and performed as a surgical nurse. She sent Gene off to bed. Moose's leg was broken; he'd been shot twice in the chest. He would be fine, but his war was over.

* * *

The next morning, Claire went over to CP to inform Dick that Moose was being evacuated. She was still furious about the whole incident. Eugene was also still pissed, however, he thought maybe he should go apologize since he mouthed off to two superiors. Claire told him not to worry about it, that they wouldn't try to do anything. She walked up to Dick's office and knocked on the door.

"Enter," Dick said through the closed door. He looked up from his paperwork. "Claire."

"Sir, I came to inform you that Lieutenant Heylinger is being evacuated to England," she said formally. "He'll be fine, but he's not comin' back to the line."

"Ok," he said.

"Sir, about last night…"

"Claire, you don't have to apologize, you and Doc were right," Dick told her.

"I was not gonna apologize. I know I was right," she countered. "What I was gonna tell you is that we oughta give a refresher to the officers about first aid."

Dick nodded. "I think that's a good idea."

"Ok," she said.

"I'm sorry about what happened," he told her.

"Moose's alive, that's what matters."

She did end up giving a brush up lecture to the officers about first aid in the field. She had to wait until they were moved out of Driel and off the line at a camp in Mourmelon-le-Grand. Her anger and frustration towards Harry and Dick had dissipated.

Easy Company now had yet another new CO, Lieutenant Norman Dike. He'd arrived as Easy was still in Holland, fighting and living in foxholes. Originally, he presented himself with gusto and made a good impression, that is until he hid out in his hole. The few times he was out of the foxhole, he would often give Claire shit.

 _Oh great. Just what I need, another Sobel._

However, unlike Sobel, Dike was incapable of making any choices out in the field. It was frustrating as hell working with 'Foxhole Norman' as the men had dubbed him. With Dick gone to Battalion XO, Claire was technically the longest serving officer in Easy Company. Buck came back to the company, having fully recovered from his wounds in Holland. New replacements came in as well. They looked at the battle hardened veterans with awe.

They did marches, close order drills, and prepared. Easy Company only had about sixty-five percent strength in the enlisted men and one hundred and twelve percent strength for the officers. There were enough for two officers per platoon, plus Dike, plus Claire, and a spare.

The transition from the front line to garrison life had happened relatively quick. The first day involved getting a shower and a freshly laundered uniform. Men received weekend passes to Reims, though those were quickly revoked after the 101st kept getting into fights with the 82nd Airborne. Dick had gotten a forty-eight hour pass to Paris. Claire had gone to Reims one weekend alone. She saw some show and liked it, but she found that going on furlough alone now wasn't as enjoyable. She'd spent enough time alone in the hospital.

By end of November, mail had caught up with the men, improving moral. Her mail, on the other hand, did the opposite. Claire received a letter from Alice. She knew it what kind of a letter it was based on the tear stains on the paper. Claire read the letter four times before firmly grasping what had happened. There had been an accident in the factory where Olivia worked and she had died. Alice was now being sent to live with her Aunt in Scotland. Her brother, David, was wounded and would be in the hospital for a while.

After two months of silence from Eleanor, Claire finally got something back. It wasn't from her friend, but from a man in Eleanor's unit, Wilbur Conley, also known as Runner, who told her that Eleanor had been killed in action on some small island named Pelelieu.

The two letters back to back deeply affected Claire. It was a constant stream of bad news and she didn't know how much more she could take. She'd hoped that Eleanor would've made it through the war. She hoped that Olivia and Alice would be safe, but it didn't work like that. Hope did nothing but lead to disappointment.

"Hey Russ, c'mon, let's get a drink," Muck told her one night. She'd been quiet, her mind still dwelling on the letters. "You look like you need it. 'Sides, got something you'll wanna see."

She did need a drink. She let herself be dragged along to the bar.

* * *

The bar was crowded with the men from the base. She saw the table with her friends. It was nice seeing Buck out of the hospital. Since she was in the officers' barracks again, Buck was in the cot next to her. She looked further down the table and broke out into a wide smile.

"The Hell you doin' here?" Claire asked amicably while looking at Bill Guarnere sitting there with a shit eating grin and a large beer in hand.

"Took a page outta your book, Russ. Went AWOL," he told her. "Someone get the Lieutenant here a drink!"

Claire saw that even Eugene was out and sitting at table. She took a spot next to him and Liebgott brought her a drink.

"Welcome back, Bill," she said as the table clanged their glasses together.

She only had the one drink, she knew not to do more. They told stories about their time, only the light times of course.

"That was _one time_!" Claire laughed as she heard the story, one she'd heard before but it was never less funny, of when Bill nearly bayoneted Malarkey on D-Day.

"' _Who's side are you on?'"_

"But look, you're fine, ain't you Malark?" Bill countered.

"Still get nervous when you come near me with a bayonet," he joked.

"What about the time Russ here went through the pig guts back in basic?" Muck remembered.

"Pig guts?" Heffron questioned in disgust.

"Courtesy of our old CO, Captain Sobel," Toye answered. Claire merely shook her head and took a drink from her glass.

"So we're running through the obstacle course and crawling under the barbed wire. Look up, and there's blood and guts covering the trench," Muck recounted. "I look to the right and all I see is Russ smile then roll in the trench face first and come out covered head to toe in blood."

"It really wasn't that bad," she said. "Dive in fish guts, then you'll be throwing up. Shit stays in your clothes for weeks."

They gave her weird looks.

"What? My brother liked to hide my doll in the barrels of fish guts," she explained nonchalantly. "Ma was pissed when I'd come back stinkin'. Made us sleep outside on a very hot day."

The only people in Easy who knew anything about her family were Bill and Gene. She never openly gave anecdotes about her family because it hurt too much.

They kept telling stories, some from home, some from the war, and told jokes causing everyone to laugh. She was gladly letting herself be distracted from the letters she'd received. Claire bought a round for the guys, Muck and Malarkey came up with her to help carry the drinks back. She walked up to the bar and felt eyes on her. She was used to it by this point. Still, there was something about it this time that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. The bartender gave them four each to carry. Claire looked up from the bar and nearly dropped the drinks.

 _No._

She froze in place. Her eyes wide in shock.

 _Not now._

"Russ?" Muck's voice brought her back. "Hey, Russ, you okay?"

"Looks like you saw a ghost… or Muck's ass," Malarkey joked.

They had no idea.

"Y-Yeah… I'm fine," she stuttered. "Just tired, I guess. I'm gonna bring these then head back to barracks."

"You sure?" Muck asked.

"Yeah… I just need some sleep."

Claire followed them back to the table, knowing those eyes were still on her. She distributed the drinks and then told the guys she was calling it a night.

"What? It's barely eleven," Bill said.

"I'm tired, Bill," Claire said firmly. "I'll see y'all in the morning for PT."

Claire walked out of the bar. Her heart was pounding in her chest, her hands shaking. She couldn't breathe. He couldn't be here. He couldn't. She felt dizzy, her tongue like sandpaper.

"Claire?"

She stopped dead in her tracks. She turned around to see the one person in the world she never wanted to see again.

"You gotta be kidding me."

 _You are one cruel son of a bitch._ She mentally cursed out God.

"Nice to see you too."

"What're you doin' here, Henry?" Claire asked harshly.

"I'm an officer for the 12th Division Infantry. I got here yesterday," he explained.

"This is a dream. This has gotta be a horrible, terrible, dream," she muttered.

"You cut your hair."

There was no way this could be real. Claire turned away from Henry and started running back down the road. He was yelling after her.

* * *

 **I'm sorry for killing off Eleanor. It makes sense for something that happens much later in the story. I am still writing her war story. Even though you know the end result, I can guarantee that her story will be worth reading (which makes it all the more difficult for me to write because I'm developing her character).**

 **Who's Henry? I can assure you that you'll find out next chapter. I've briefly hinted at his identity in previous chapters. I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Please let me know.**


	10. Ghosts That We Knew

The next few days Claire was a lot more closed off then she'd ever been. Her usual patient demeanor was gone and she was irritable. She lost her temper fairly easy now. Especially today, of all days. It was December 7. Today, she was teaching First Platoon, going over some of the basics for the replacements.

"…tie the bandage around…" She drifted off. Claire looked at these young men who were eyeing her, bored out of their minds. She turned to write something on the board and one young private, yawned loudly causing some of the men to laugh.

She sighed and then turned around. "Am I borin' you?"

"No ma'am," they answered.

"Then you are all gonna shut up and listen," she barked.

"Christ, takin' orders from a broad, what's next?" One private muttered just loud enough for her to hear.

Claire's fury raged. "What's your name, Private?" She asked in a dangerously calm voice.

"Milton, Albert J.," he said.

"Wanna know why I didn't know your name, Milton? Why none of us know your name?" She snapped. "Because every single replacement is the same. You're all bright eyed and bushy tailed wantin' to prove yourself. Next thing, you're lying on the ground with your blood and guts hanging out… You think that you know something but you don't know shit! Veterans, raise your hand if you've been wounded."

Nearly all of them did. Claire raised hers too.

"See… doesn't matter how loved, or how handsome, or who you are, the Krauts _do not_ give a shit. They will do their damndest to kill your overly eager ass. You won't be laughing about listening to some broad when you're lying on the goddamn ground, covered in blood and shit, cryin' out for your mothers or for God to end it. Or maybe… it won't be you. Maybe it'll be your best friend that gets hit and you're the only one around. What would you do if it was your best friend, your brother, Milton? What would you do if your best friend's legs are blown to Hell? Or if he catches a bullet to the neck?"

He said nothing.

"I asked you a question, Private!" She snapped.

"I don't know, ma'am," he replied.

"You don't know? Then you'd better start listenin'. Because guess what, this broad knows what just might save your life one day."

No one dared say a word after that.

Once the lecture was over, Claire walked out. Muck was waiting for her outside.

"What was that about?" He asked.

"What? The lecture? Someone had to be honest with them," she shrugged. "You've seen it out there. I can't coddle them."

"I get it, but that didn't sound like you… You okay?"

"I'm fine, Muck," she lied.

"You just seem a bit… out of it. Tense."

"I'm good."

That night, she let Bill talk her into going to the movie theatre they had on base. He knew what day it was today. Well, they all knew what day it was, but not the significance of it to Claire. All the men were going. Claire sat between Bill and Luz. The film didn't register, but it was a welcomed distraction. She felt the hairs stand up on the back. She looked around and saw Henry walk in. He looked over and smiled at her. Claire turned back around. Today was not the day for her to see him.

"I have to go," she said.

"What?" Luz asked. "C'mon, you're gonna miss the best part."

"I… lady troubles Luz," she lied. Claire knew the only way to leave without being questioned was to say 'lady troubles'. She knew she'd gotten away with it when Luz gave her a disgusted look and Claire walked out.

Only, she wasn't alone in leaving.

"Claire," she heard Henry call out. "Claire, wait!"

"What do you want, Henry?" Claire snapped and turned to face him. They were outside the theatre. Claire kept walking.

"Please, I just want to talk to you," he stopped her. He pulled her into an alley. "Did you get any of my letters?"

"Yes, I did," she said. "I think me tellin' you that I never wanted to see or hear from you again shoulda been clue enough."

"Please, I'm sorry about what happened," he told her.

"Henry, today is not the day for this," she said.

"I know what today is, Claire. I was there, remember?" He questioned.

"Just leave me alone, Henry."

"This isn't what he would want," Henry replied. "He'd want…"

She reared her fist back and punched him in the jaw.

"What the fuck?!" He snapped as he cradled his jaw.

Her nostrils flared. "You don't get to talk about him. _Ever_!"

"There a problem here?" Claire looked over to see Bill and Eugene standing there.

"No," Henry answered. "There's no problem here."

"Russ?" Guarnere asked.

"It's fine. He was just leavin'," Claire told them.

"Please, Claire," he begged.

"Go."

He left.

"Claire?" She looked back and saw Eugene standing there. This was the first time he'd called her by her first name in front of someone else.

"Russ, you know that guy?" Bill asked.

"Knew. I knew him."

"Who is he?" Eugene asked.

She swallowed the lump in her throat. The tears that she'd been holding back started spilling from her eyes. She was shaking. Her heart pounding.

"Claire?"

"He's the guy who got my brother killed," she said shakily. It felt as though her chest had been ripped right open. She sank down to the ground and started crying.

* * *

Gene looked down at Claire and wasn't sure what to do. He'd known she had a brother, she'd let it slip.

"Her brother got it at Pearl Harbor," Guarnere told him. Gene's eyes widened and he looked down at his friend.

"She never said anythin'," he muttered. All these years, he should've realized. She always got quiet on this day. He always just thought it was for the same reason everyone else did.

"Only reason I know is 'cause she told me after my brother died," Guarnere explained.

Eugene went over to her and dropped down to his knees. He took his friend in his arms and she cried into his chest.

He wasn't used to this. He'd never seen Claire break down like this. It wasn't her.

"It's okay," he comforted.

She calmed down. Her sobs dwindled. She broke apart from Eugene and wiped the tears from her face.

"I'm sorry," she apologized.

"Don't be," he told her. "Don't be sorry."

"He should've gotten off that boat," Claire spoke. "He would've made it, but he heard a cry for help, so my brother, being the hero, runs back. Henry was my brother's best friend. They joined the Navy together. They both got stationed in Hawaii… That day, Henry was on KP. When the first bomb hit, Henry got stuck. James got him free, but he didn't make it out. He got pinned down by some support beams. Henry left him there. My brother drowned."

Guarnere and Gene watched as she put her head between her knees and didn't make a sound. He didn't know what to do. That is until she started laughing.

"Of all the fucking days he had to be here, it had to be today," she laughed. Claire picked herself up off the ground. "I'm tired. I think I'm gonna go to bed."

"Claire…" Gene started.

"I'm okay, Eugene, really," she assured.

They didn't say anything else as she walked away. Her head hanging high as it always did. Almost as if she was completely shedding away the girl who'd cried in the alley and back to that tough-as-nails combat nurse. He'd always been fascinated over how easily she put on her hard exterior.

"I ain't worried about her, Doc," Guarnere assured. "She'll bounce back. She always does."

He knew that. Claire would be fine. She was always fine.

The six weeks he spent without her had been difficult, he'd never realized how much she alleviated the pressure on him until she was gone. She always kept his morale up, and she made him feel like everything would be okay. If he wasn't sure about what to do, she would talk him through it. She was a good nurse, and she made him a better medic.

A few days after the incident in the alley, Eugene kept an even closer eye on Claire. She kept a strong façade, but he could see tiny cracks in her expression. It was dinner time, for the first time in a while, Claire sat with Captain Nixon and Captain Winters. She did it every so often when Nixon and Winters actually ate with the rest of the men.

He was getting up from his table when he saw Henry heading towards Claire's table. Quickly, Eugene got up and stood in his way. He wasn't going to let Henry upset her again. She'd been through enough the last few days.

"I don't think you should go there, sir," he advised.

"Get out of my way," Henry replied in a low threatening voice.

"Didn't she make it clear that she doesn't want to see you?" Eugene replied stiffly. "Stay away from her."

"I'm an officer," he looked down at Eugene's stripes, "Corporal. I can have you court-martialed for speaking to me that way," he countered.

Eugene gritted his teeth in annoyance.

"Go ahead, but I got witnesses sayin' you've been harassing Lieutenant Rousseau. I'm just defending my CO, sir," he condescendingly told him.

"You don't know shit about what happened," Henry stated.

"I know enough, sir… and she don't wanna see you."

There was a sudden dawning across his face.

"Come with me."

Henry turned to leave. Eugene remained in place.

"That's an order," he told him.

Against his will, Eugene followed Henry out of the mess hall. He cast one look back at Claire's table. She hadn't even realized the confrontation had happened.

He followed Henry until they got to another alley. For a second, Eugene waited for the officer to slug him. Instead, Henry simply turned around and talked.

"What you think you know, you don't," Henry told him.

Eugene gave him a strange look.

"I lied," he admitted. "What happened that day… I lied."

He still said nothing as Henry began to speak.

"I tried to help him… I tried so damn hard but I couldn't… he… it was too late by the time I got there," Henry recounted. Eugene could hear the tightness in his voice, he was trying to keep his emotions in check.

"By the time you got there?" He asked. That wasn't what Claire told him.

"James was the one on KP," he said. "When the bomb hit us… I knew we were going down. I couldn't leave without him. I-I ran, but I wasn't fast enough. I got there… I saw he was pinned and I tried to get him out, I did… but he was already dead."

He saw Henry discreetly wipe a few tears that had fallen. Eugene masked his surprise. This wasn't what he was expecting.

"Why'd you lie, sir?" Eugene asked after a moment of silence.

"I needed to give Claire a reason for her brother's death," he admitted. "It woulda killed her to know that he died because he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. That it… it was meaningless."

"She coulda handled it," Eugene argued.

"When we were kids, Claire trailed after us like a puppy. She always tried to be like James. She worshiped the ground he walked on… believe me when I say that she can handle pretty much everything, but not this," Henry countered.

"So you made him the hero even in the end?"

Henry nodded. "I was hoping that by now she would've forgiven me…"

"Tell her the truth," Eugene offered.

Henry shook his head. "I can't. Especially not now. And if you care about her, like I see that you do, you'll keep this to yourself."

Eugene hesitated. How could he keep this to himself? By the way Claire talked about her brother, she idolized him. From what he saw the few days before, she was still heartbroken, even though it happened three years ago.

He wished Henry had never said anything. Still, he nodded in agreement. He didn't want to.

"I will, sir. I won't say a thing… only if you promise you'll stay away from her as long as you're here," Eugene gave him the ultimatum.

"I already lost my brother… now I gotta lose the girl I love like a sister?" He asked.

Eugene said nothing.

Henry huffed. "I'll do it… I won't talk to her. Look after her, alright? I don't know if I can handle another Rousseau funeral."

Eugene nodded. He always looked after her.

That didn't mean it felt right.

* * *

 **I hope you liked it. Let me know!**


	11. The March to Hell

After the encounter with Henry, Claire found herself constantly surrounded by one of her men. She had an inkling Bill was the one who put them up to it. She trusted him enough not to mention James to the others. Eugene, she noticed, always seemed to be distracted. It was ever since she saw him exit the mess hall with Henry. She didn't press him on what he said.

As much as she appreciated the gesture of having the 'shield', she also found it incredibly annoying. However, it didn't last long. A week after the incident, Henry and the 12th Infantry Division left. She did not go see him. Despite having grown up together, Claire could not forgive him for leaving James that day. She hated him. She blamed him. James was dead and it was his fault.

As soon as he left, Claire was less tense, less angry, somewhat like her old self. She was sitting in the rec room where they were currently playing a Marlene Deitrich and John Wayne film. She sat towards the back next to Eugene. He was staring fixed at the screen.

She'd seen the movie a half dozen times, Luz liked to drag her along. The film _Seven Sinners_ told the story of a Navy officer who falls in love with a lounge singer named Bijou. Before the war, Claire loved these kinds of stories, but now they were lies. John Wayne's nice Navy white uniform was simply a prop from the costume department. In comparison to the things they had seen, it wasn't real. Still, looking at Marlene Deitrich putting on a seductive smile as she asks for a penny made her laugh. Though, maybe it was more Luz's impressions of her.

"Hey, Gene," she nudged her friend to get his attention. He blinked and then looked at her. "Got a penny?"

"What?" He looked at her oddly.

"Got a penny?" She repeated. "The movie… the line you just heard?"

"Hm… right," he replied absentmindedly.

"Gene? Are you okay?" She asked.

"Mhmm, I'm fine."

But like most times, she didn't believe him.

Then the lights turned on and three officers came striding in and blocked the movie, much to the objection of everyone in the theatre.

"Quiet!" One of them barked. "The 1st and 6th Panzer division broke through the Ardennes. They overran the 28th Infantry and elements of the 4th. Officers, report to your respective HQs. All passes are cancelled."

This caused disgruntled cries among the men.

"Enlisted men, report back to barracks and your platoon leaders."

Eugene was already out of his chair when Claire looked back. She huffed and got out of her seat. They were going back to war. She had to get as much supplies as she could in the short amount of time she had.

The lack of supplies on base was astounding. She packed her own possessions, leaving behind the things that weren't important and taking her two extra pairs of socks, the blanket, and the coat she'd been issued last week. Of course, when coats came, the officers were given them first. The enlisted men still only had their summer uniforms.

 _The US Army at its finest._

She still only had summer boots, a summer uniform under the coat… and they were about to go to Belgium where it was cold.

Her raiding the aid station was no better. She scrounged up all she could and filled her musette bag, along with a spare sack. There was only one bottle of plasma. She did, however, find a stethoscope which she snuck into her bag. It wasn't the only one and she knew she would need it more than whoever was here. The meagre supplies would need to be split three ways between Eugene, Ralph Spina –who was assigned to Easy Company not too long ago, and of course, herself.

Claire walked out of the aid station into the fray of soldiers bustling around scavenging any supplies they could. She found Dick, Buck, and Peacock gathered around a trash can fire. She came in next to Dick and warmed her hands by the fire. She had to keep looking for supplies, but the warmth was nice.

"Claire, have you seen Lieutenant Dike anywhere?" Dick asked.

"Can't say that I…"

She was interrupted by the annoyance that was Norman Dike.

"Captain Winters," he greeted Dick. "Lieutenant Compton, Lieutenant Peacock, Lieutenant Rousseau."

He said her title forcibly. She honestly had no more patience to deal with this crap anymore. But she bit back her retort.

"Lieutenant Dike, just the man I was looking for," Dick said.

"Sir, we've got a problem. Colonel Strayer has not yet returned from some wedding he's attending in London. We're going to the front, the front, and our CO isn't even in the same damn country," he ranted. Was he expecting the operation to be cancelled strictly because their CO wasn't there?

This time, Claire didn't have to hold back her retort. Dick spoke for them all.

"You have bigger things to worry about. You have men going to battle without proper winter clothing and no ammo," Dick chastised. "Take a canvas of the base, scrounge up what you can, or have you done that already?"

Dike looked as though he'd just been scolded by his father. "No sir."

"K-rations, as many as you can get. We might not get resupplied."

"And ammo?" Buck asked.

"There is no more. Distribute what you can," Dick replied.

"Lieutenant Compton, Lieutenant Peacock, inform Lieutenant Shames of the situation, gather your platoons, and then report back to me, understood?"

"Yes sir," they replied simultaneously before heading off.

Dike turned to her. "Lieutenant Rousseau, make sure you gather all the supplies you can."

She already had. "Yes sir."

"Captain Winters," he saluted before heading off.

"You already got supplies, didn't you?" Dick deduced.

"Yep," she replied.

"How much we got?" He asked.

She showed him her musette bag and the spare sack that was half full.

"That's it?" He questioned.

"Yep. Found a stethoscope though, I guess that's something… But we'll manage. We always do," she assured. Whether or not that was true, she had no idea. "I'm gonna go find Doc Roe and Spina. Gotta divide whatever supplies we do have."

"I'll keep a lookout for anything else," Dick promised.

"Thanks."

She found Eugene without much trouble. Spina wasn't too far off. She explained the lack of supplies and divided them as best she could.

"I'm not sure when we'll be resupplied," she explained. "We'll know more when we get there, but in the meantime, this is all we got."

She heard Spina curse under his breath.

"Spina, you're with Third. Roe, you take First. I'll go with Second," she instructed.

"Yes, ma'am," they both said before walking away.

Before meeting up with Second Platoon, she did a quick lap of the surrounding areas. She didn't find any more medical supplies. She did, however find probably the only two pairs of thin gloves. She would give one to Gene and one to Spina. They didn't have the coats like she did. She had to give them a little something. She hid the mittens in her musette bag until she would see them again.

Claire met up with Second Platoon, and soon they were on their way to Belgium. She sat between Toye and Bill. Muck sat at her feet, Malarkey next to him. Buck was on the edge, closest to the door.

The drive to Belgium was slow. The convoy drove carefully down the icy roads. At one point or another, men would hop out, take a piss on the side of the road and still run and catch the truck. Claire never did, she didn't have the same luxury of being able to simply whip it out and pee. Her butt hurt from sitting in the uncomfortable truck for so long.

They were loud, singing songs –Toye sang yet another rendition of _I'll Be Seeing You_ , telling crude jokes, a blackout was not in effect. Buck commented that maybe the _Luftwaffe_ were asleep.

"Christ, I miss those C-47s," Bill commented as he shivered. The temperature had dropped drastically between Mourmelon and Belgium. Claire hugged her jacket tighter to herself and shivered.

"We got ourselves a tailgate jump here," Talbert replied.

"What're we gonna do with no ammo?" Heffron asked.

"Hey, kid, what's your name again?" Toye asked the replacement sitting directly across from him.

"Uh… Sueth… Sueth Jr." He said it in a shaky, nervous voice.

"You got any ammo Junior?" Toye asked.

"Just what I'm carrying," he replied.

"What about socks? You got extra socks?" Toye asked.

"A pair," he answered.

"You need four minimum," Muck stated. "Feet, hand, neck, balls…"

"Extra socks warms them all," the entire group finished. It was something that was instilled in them back in basic.

"Eh… we all remembered that one. Too bad we didn't remember the socks," Muck joked.

"I want a cigarette," Toye complained. Claire agreed, she got that itch for a smoke she only got when she had anxiety knotting in her stomach. In the war, that was a near constant. Her pack was tucked in her breast pocket, but she'd be damned if she pulled it out here. The men were vultures when it came to an open pack.

"I want more ammo and socks," someone else complained.

"I bet Junior's got plenty of both."

"I don't," Sueth defended.

"What about a hat? You got a hat?" Liebgott asked. Sueth shook his head.

"Hey you got extra ammo?" Sueth retorted.

"What about a coat? You got a coat?" Liebgott pressed.

"Shut up about the coat," Malarkey told him.

"What about smokes?" Ramirez asked him.

"Yeah, I got those," he said.

 _Oh, rookie mistake._ Soon everyone, including her, was passing around Sueth's pack and taking a cigarette for themselves.

"You'll learn soon enough, kid," she told him as she handed him back the empty pack. He looked at her with a small smile on his face. Claire then lit the smoke and leaned back in the truck.

Claire laughed along with the rest. Soon, the trucks were parking and they hopped out the back. It was colder than Hell here. Claire was from Louisiana, until she went to Colorado for her first placement, she'd never even seen snow. Now her fingers were already frozen, the air stung as she breathed in deeply. She'd lost feeling in her toes a day ago. It was painful to walk, but she endured. In the distance, she could hear artillery blasts. They still did not know what was waiting for them. Not even the Generals knew. Normandy and Holland had been chaotic, but at least they'd had time to prepare. Now they had nothing.

"Fifteen minutes," Buck announced. "Smoke 'em if you got 'em."

They finished their smokes, Claire really had to go to the bathroom and went away from the trucks and found a place to go. She mentally cursed as the cold air touched her exposed skin. She went back to the group, and spotted Dick and Lew talking to Colonel Sink.

Claire saw the long line of American troops running away from the fight. There were some being taken by jeeps. Trucks of wounded drove by. Her men were going up to the other soldiers and taking the guns and ammo right off their backs. Seeing the amount of wounded, Claire knew she couldn't get anything out of them.

"Jesus, they look like they've been through the ringer," Lew said coming next to her.

"What're we goin' into, Lew?" Claire asked.

"Hell," was what he told her.

"Oh, so business as usual then?" She asked.

"They say we're going to be surrounded," he added.

"That so?" They were paratroopers, being surrounded was their everyday. "Those poor bastards, they have no idea who we are."

Lew smirked down at her. Claire had confidence in the men. She was glad that if she was going to be out in the freezing cold with anyone, it was with Easy Company.

Claire walked with her men into the frozen landscape. She didn't know what was coming, but she had faith in the Company. She had faith in her own skills to be able to help them. Whatever the Krauts were going to throw at them, Claire believed wholeheartedly that they would be able to take it.

"Here we go again," Claire said under her breath as they walked.

* * *

 **I've currently been doing a lot of rewrites for the Bastogne parts. There's a lot I'm going to explore in the rest of the story. I hope you all enjoyed this short prologue to Bastogne.**


	12. Truth Will Out

Death surrounded every inch of the Bois Jacques, where they were digging in. They dug into the ground. Claire shared a foxhole with Luz. When Dike came by, and started giving them hell, Claire explained that if they didn't share, both of them would most likely freeze to death. That shut him up. Dike, Claire realized, was afraid of being responsible for the deaths of men. Lew was right, this place was Hell. It was a frozen Hell surrounded by death. Everywhere they went, there were dead frozen bodies. She wondered if that would happen to her if she died here, frozen and left behind.

Between the shelling and blocking German advances, Easy Company spent time digging and reinforcing their foxholes. Their axes were dulled, which made it impossible to properly cover the holes. The frozen ground made it difficult to dig in, but they managed.

They were dug in right along the line. That first night, they didn't sleep at all. They learnt very quickly that they could not light a fire, otherwise the Krauts would start shelling them. Now it was four hours on, four hours off, but that soon changed to two on two off.

For the first few days, they had a few casualties, but only one KIA. It was a replacement who'd only joined them a few days before leaving. No one knew his name. Made it easier that way. What wasn't easy was having him bleed out under her hands, which is what happened.

It had been four days since they got in. They had no way of getting supplies since they were surrounded. Easy Company had no Aid Station. They were almost completely out of medical supplies; they'd run out of plasma on the second day. Still, Claire's confidence did not waver.

Eugene was quieter than usual. She could see that there was something more than just the cold and the shit surrounding him that was bothering him. Claire walked over to his foxhole one day. He was huddled against the wall of his foxhole wrapped in a blanket. His helmet was low over his eyes. She slid in next to him, he jumped up.

"Oh, sorry, did I wake you?" She asked.

"Hm… no it's alright," he replied. "What're you doing? I thought it was Spina's turn to do rounds."

"It is," she replied. "I came to check on you."

"Check on me?" Eugene questioned.

"You really think I haven't noticed, Gene? You've been acting strange since Mourmelon."

He didn't say anything. He didn't look her in the eye.

"Tell me."

"I'm fine," he assured.

"Eugene… please."

He seemed to hesitate, as though trying to find the perfect thing to say.

"You can tell me anything," she pestered. "What did Henry say to you?"

His eyes widened.

"How did you know he said anything to me?" He asked.

"I saw you follow him out of the mess hall," she replied. "Whatever it is he told you…"

"He lied," Eugene cut her off.

"Yes, exactly, he…"

He interrupted her again.

"That's what he told me… He lied to you."

"About what?" Claire asked cautiously.

"About James. He lied about how he died."

Claire silently pressed for more. What happened to James?

"It wasn't Henry that was on KP… it was James. When they got bombed… Henry was the one who ran to find James. He tried to save him, Claire… but it was too late. He was already dead," Eugene told her.

It felt like the air was sucked out of her lungs. It couldn't be true.

"No," she shook her head. "That's not what happened."

She couldn't believe that.

"I've been thinking about it. Claire, how could your brother lift support beams alone off of Henry?" Eugene asked. "How's Henry here and not paralyzed or wounded?"

No.

"No. He lied to you," Claire replied shortly.

"Why would he lie about that?" He asked.

"To make himself look better. So that you would tell me and I would forgive him for what he did," she offered.

"Claire…"

"No. It can't be true," she said determined. She had tears in her eyes. "It can't be."

Eugene said nothing.

"Why would Henry lie to me?" She asked. "He knew I would blame him. Why would he lie?"

"He said it was because he wanted to give you a reason."

A few tears fell. She shook her head once more.

"I can't believe that my brother died because he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. I can't believe that it was for nothing. God wouldn't be so cruel," she explained.

"Claire…"

James couldn't have died for nothing. There had to be a reason. There just had to be.

But was there ever truly a reason for death?

"He can't… no…" she kept trying to deny it, but Eugene was right and the rational part of her brain knew he was. She didn't want to believe it.

"I'm sorry…"

 _Oh God… James._

She could imagine the worst possible scenarios of her brother dying.

This was worse than before. She'd never know his last words. He died alone. She'd never know if he suffered or if it was quick…

 _I hope when you die it's quick._

She couldn't breathe. Her heart was pounding. The air around her was constricting. The sound of machine gun bursts sounded so distant.

 _James…_

Everything she knew from that day was a lie. James didn't die to save his friend. He died because he was in the wrong place.

Why him? Why did it have to be him?

Nothing. James died for nothing.

She went to grip the necklace around her neck only to remember that it was gone. The last piece of James she had was somewhere in Holland.

If James didn't give Henry the necklace, how did he get it?

She didn't know what to do with this. It felt like she'd lost him all over again.

Eugene had put an arm around her shoulder, Claire shook it off. He'd known for weeks. He knew and he said nothing.

She couldn't keep sitting there. She had to move. Claire got out of the foxhole and took off.

"Claire!" She heard Eugene call after her. She didn't want to see him right now. She couldn't.

She could hardly see where she was going as the tears blurred her vision. Claire didn't care about the Germans across the way. She didn't care about the machine gun bursts or the shellings. She didn't care about any of it. Claire dropped to her knees and felt the cold wet snow freeze her hands.

When she lost her brother three years ago, the pain had been crippling, but at least she knew that he died saving someone else. But now, it was reopening the old wounds with a rusty blade. James hadn't died because he saved his friend. He had no chance of getting out. It was all a story Henry had invented.

Why had he lied? She had the right to know.

Now she did, and it hurt.

She heard footsteps in the snow. She quickly wiped the tears from her eyes.

"Russ?" It was Malarkey. "What the Hell are you doing out here?"

"I was uh…" she cleared her throat. "I needed some fresh air... What're you doing?"

"Went to take a piss. Everything okay?"

She was the furthest thing from okay but she would never admit that.

She could see James standing behind Malarkey. He looked exactly like she remembered, not like she imagined him so many times.

 _Don't dwell on it, Claire,_ he told her. That's what he always told her when she would get lost in her own head. It's what Claire told Eugene and herself every day in this war. _Nous sommes solide. Remember?_

 _Yes,_ she thought, _I remember._

"Russ?"

"I'm good," she assured.

She wasn't, but she could pretend to be.

* * *

Luz was fast asleep next to her. Claire was afraid to close her eyes. She was afraid of what she might see. Instead, she stayed awake.

" _You did what?" Claire asked her brother on the last day she saw him before he went off with the Navy. It was 1939 and the USA had not entered the war yet._

 _They were sitting in a small café down the street from Claire's apartment. It was pouring rain outside, which meant most people stayed home and the coffee shop was empty._

" _I joined the Navy," he replied._

" _Why would you do that?" She asked. "What about the boat?"_

" _It's only for a year," he told her. "Just so I can avoid getting drafted if we do go to war… and we need the money."_

" _I can work," she offered. "I can help. You don't have to go."_

" _No," he replied firmly._

" _You don't have to give up your dream for me," she told him._

" _I'm not having you give up yours," he replied. "We've worked too damn hard to get you there."_

" _What if we go to war, James?" Claire asked._

" _We probably won't even go," he replied. "Europe's problems aren't our problems. Ain't that what everyone's saying?"_

 _He was saying it for her benefit._

" _You've never left Breaux Bridge," she countered._

" _Maybe it's time I branch out," he shrugged. "Besides, Henry's going, who else is going to keep him out of trouble?"_

 _She huffed. There was no talking him out of this._

" _Promise that you'll write every week," She conceded._

" _Of course."_

" _And be careful."_

" _It's Hawaii, Claire. The only thing I'm gonna do is work on my tan."_

" _And make sure Henry doesn't do anything stupid."_

" _Don't I always?"_

" _And same for you. I don't wanna hear how you got an STI. One of the nurses I was shadowing last week was treating a man with one, warts all over the place," she continued._

 _James laughed._

" _I'm gonna miss you, big brother," she finished._

" _I'll miss you too, little sister."_

That was the last time she saw him.

It was supposed to be one year. Then he was supposed to come home.

"Claire?"

She was pulled out of her memory by the sound of Lew's voice. She was back in her foxhole in the frozen ground, freezing her ass off. She crawled out and found Lew standing a few feet by a tree.

"Lew, the Hell are you doing here?" She asked. "What's going on?"

Lew wouldn't venture this close to the frontline, not unless it was bad.

"We're in some shit." He didn't beat around the bush.

"What kind of shit?" She cautiously asked.

"The 326th Medical Division got captured," he informed her.

"Oh."

That kind of shit.

"They got everything. Only a couple of medics and a surgeon made it through," he explained.

"Jesus…"

"Orders came in from Sink. He wants you heading the aid station in Bastogne."

 _Wait, what?_

"He's taking me off the line?" She asked.

"Until we break through, yeah… Easy's got three medics," he explained. "And, you've got the rank."

They could spare one.

"Why me? Other battalions have surgeons, extra staff they can spare. All we have here is Doc Roe, Spina, and me," she pointed out.

"D'you really gotta ask that?" Lew retorted. She knew the answer; it was the same reason Sink showed up with reassignment papers.

Orders are orders.

"When do I go?" She asked.

"Jeep's waiting for you," he replied.

She wouldn't get the chance to say goodbye to the men. If they didn't make it because she wasn't here, Claire doubted she would ever forgive herself. But, these were her orders, and she couldn't disobey them. Besides, she'd come here to help save the lives of soldiers, and that's what she would be doing.

"I gotta grab some stuff from my hole," she told him.

"Yeah, sure, I'll be waiting by the jeep," he replied.

Claire turned and walked back to her hole. She slid in, accidentally waking Luz up.

"You're back early," he noted.

Claire grabbed her pack and tossed him her blanket.

"Where're you going?" He asked.

She explained what Lew told her quickly and briefly. "Won't be gone long. Would you mind tellin' Roe and Spina? I ain't got the time to run an' see 'em. Heading to Bastogne now."

"Yeah, I got it," he agreed.

"Thanks, oh and give 'em this," she handed him her musette bag. She kept the stuff that hung off her belt and in her pack. He nodded once more. "Be safe. See you in a few days, Luz."

"Yeah, see you soon."

And with that, she was up and out of the hole.

Claire walked back over to the jeep and gave Lew a curt nod before getting in the passenger's seat and the driver took off. She didn't want to leave her boys, but this was only temporary. It was back to work; she could not wallow in her grief. James died and there was nothing she could do to change it.

 _Keep on moving, Claire._

Keep moving.

* * *

Gene hardly slept that night. He followed her out, he had to make sure she didn't do anything reckless. He saw her lean against that tree and crumble. It was Malarkey that found her. He and Spina were meeting up with her to go over the day. He knew the Claire he would see would not be the one from last night. He didn't know what he'd find.

He did not expect to find her foxhole only occupied by Luz. He knew she'd made it back the night before.

"Luz, where's Lieutenant Rousseau?" He asked. Spina was by his side.

"Bastogne," he said. "She got pulled last night to head the Aid Station."

She was gone.

"What?"

"Krauts captured the medical division. Got pretty much everything."

Dammit.

When?" Spina asked.

"Last night. Captain Nixon came by and next thing I know, she's grabbing her stuff, tossing me her blanket and heading out," he explained.

It was better that she wasn't here with Germans shooting at them. And when they weren't being shot or shelled, they sat and froze and all they could do was think. God, he wished Henry had never opened his mouth. He wished he never would've found out about what happened to Claire's brother.

At least there, she would be doing something else. She wouldn't be reckless like she always tended to be in battle. Eugene could admit that recklessness came with the job. He too didn't think about the consequences when it came to helping wounded soldiers. They couldn't think about it, otherwise they wouldn't be able to do their jobs.

"She'll be back," Luz assured. "We just gotta break through."

They were all protective over Claire, it was their instinct after all. To a lot of the troopers in Easy Company, Claire reminded them of their sisters or sweethearts they left behind. At first, that's why he gravitated to her. She reminded him of the women in his life. Now, it was different. He saw her as his equal in every way except rank.

"Oh, and she told me to give you this," he handed them the musette bag with whatever meagre supplies she had left.

"Thanks," Gene said as he took the bag.

He and Spina left Luz and started walking back to Eugene's foxhole.

They divvied up the remainder of the supplies between them.

"Guess it's just us then," Spina spoke up.

He'd give it back when she came back to Easy Company. After Spina left to go back to his hole, Eugene wrapped himself in his blanket and went over the remaining contents of her bag.

She kept enough junk in her bag to rival a grandma. His hand caught something. He pulled out a leather cord with a silver medallion on it. He'd seen it before; it was always around Claire's neck. He wasn't sure why she'd taken it off, but there it was. Next time he saw her; he'd give it back to her. In the meantime, Gene slipped it around his neck so he wouldn't lose it.

* * *

 **The truth always comes out. I can tell you that I'm incredibly excited for the next few chapters. I can't wait for you all to read what I have planned. Let me know what you thought!**


	13. SNAFU

_December 22_ _nd_ _1944_

"Renée!" Claire called for the young Belgian Nurse. She was currently elbow deep in a man's belly trying to plug the artery and save the man's life. Her fingers were currently pinching it. She needed her suture kit to fix it. A medic was holding a flashlight above so that Claire could see what she was doing.

"Renée!" Claire yelled out again.

The Nurse came running back in the back room of the church, holding the surgical kit. Claire was not a surgeon, but she'd seen procedures done enough times and assisted that she could handle it.

"Les pinces, donnes moi les pinces!" _(The clamps, give me the clamps!)_ Claire ordered. Renée reached in the bag and pulled out a set of clamps. Claire then slid them in and clamped down.

"Tiens ça," _(Hold this)_ Claire said and held the handle of the clamps to Renée. The other nurse took them and Claire grabbed the suture kit. She laced the string through the curved needle and started working. She concentrated on her work, despite the sounds of people calling for medics, priests, their mothers, anyone to help them.

She huffed a sigh of relief as the sutures held, she nodded at Renée, who then removed the clamps and put them on the table. Claire stitched up the wound. They moved him back to the main room and laid the soldier down on an empty bunk. She instructed the medic who was holding the light, Carson, to make sure he's still breathing every hour.

"Yes, ma'am," he said.

There was not a moment to rest as more wounded off the line kept coming in. The stench of death clung in the air, though at this point Claire was used to it. She'd seen the goriest of wounds and the worst cases of trench foot. Her uniform was a few shades darker from the blood and dirt.

Luckily for her, she had Renée and Anna to help. There was one surgeon as well. She had a few medics and Father Mahoney here. They were overwhelmed. When Claire came in two days ago, there was a steady stream and then it picked up. They had no back up beyond Bastogne, which meant Claire had dozens of patients to keep alive while more came in.

At first, the medics who were already here and the one surgeon did not want her around, much less being the one in charge. Jones started arguing with her when she took the lead on dealing with a patient who had a leg blown off.

"See these bars, Private?" She had asked. He nodded. "That means that _I'm_ the one in charge here. And I'm orderin' you to stand back and let me do my damn job."

His nostrils flared. "Yes ma'am."

Claire hated to pull rank, but the truth is, these men weren't her men which meant they didn't have the same respect she'd gained in Easy. Unfortunately, she did not have the time it took her the first time to earn it.

She was glad to have Anna and Renée here. Anna was a black woman who came to Belgium with her family in 1935. She'd been a nurse in the Congo before coming to Bastogne. When the war broke out, and Belgium was invaded, Anna helped the Allied soldiers. At first, Claire was caught off guard by her. Prior to New Orleans, she hadn't seen very many coloured people. Breaux Bridge wasn't exactly known for diversity. New Orleans, on the other hand, was much more so. She'd never worked alongside a person of colour before. Anna was a remarkable woman and a very gifted nurse.

Renée was the same age as Claire, and a native of Bastogne. She was pretty with clear blue eyes. She came home not long ago in order to take care of her aging parents. When the Allies heard that she was a nurse, they asked her to help. Renée agreed and started to work. The three of them worked well together.

She had four other medics working with her. Alexander Melville could easily be described as a puppy. He bounced around the aid station, always full of energy. He was tall and thin, with brown hair and brown eyes. He was friendly and liked to talk a lot. He told her how he was the third of seven kids. He was from Chicago, Illinois.

Shawn O'Connor was a short ginger, Irishman from Portland, Oregon. He could be loud and abrasive, but always ready to work. He reminded her of Harry Welsh. O'Connor was in his late twenties, the oldest out of them all, except for Wilkes.

William Jones was from a small town just outside of Buffalo, New York. Claire could tell immediately that he came from a family of money. He was a capable medic, but he carried himself with an air of arrogance. Something Claire enjoyed knocking down.

Patrick Carson was a tall, muscular, handsome man from Augusta, Maine. He had dirty blonde hair and blue eyes. He had a bright shining smile, and a goofy sense of humour. Carson and Melville were the best of friends, reminding her of Muck and Malarkey. It was hard to meet anyone new and not be reminded of her friends.

Herbert Wilkes was in his thirties. He was a surgeon from Milwaukee. He was an attractive man, with dark hair and eyes. For the most part, Wilkes was kind. He knew how beneficial a nurse could be, that didn't mean he liked that she was the one in charge. Despite his position, he was only a second lieutenant. Her rank was still considered 'relative' but with the help of Colonel Sink, she held rank above him. They worked well together despite the animosity at the start.

Claire was looking in on another patient and sat by his side monitoring his pulse and breathing. She took a deep breath and pushed away her exhaustion. She'd been on her feet and in constant movement since she got here. She'd slept for maybe an hour at the most.

They had little supplies left, rationing everything they had. Instead of morphine, they were giving the men with injuries that weren't as severe alcohol. They cut up sheets to make bandages.

Every time a new soldier came in, Claire always had that sinking feeling that it was one of her boys. A few from Easy Company had come in, but none of them were her friends, which was a great relief. She wondered how they were. She wanted to hear one of Muck's jokes, or hear Toye sing _I'll Be Seeing You_ for the hundredth time. She wanted to give Lew a hard time, and joke around with Malarkey and Bill. And though she was still angry that he kept Henry's secret, she wanted to see Gene to make sure he was alright. She wanted to hear him ask her if she was. She wanted thing to go back to how they were.

She had to know if they were okay. There were hardly any supplies when she left. She had to wonder if they had anything at all. Even here, they were scrounging.

* * *

Between the artillery blasts, and the machine gun fire, Gene spent the vast majority of his time scrounging for any supplies. They got hit pretty bad the day before. A replacement lost an arm. They used up two syrettes on him. They were pretty much out of everything now. Gene even lost his scissors.

That morning, he started trudging through the fog in an attempt to get to Third Battalion and get supplies from them, but he lost his way. He came across three frozen German corpses. He was getting close to the enemy line, that turned him around. He walked back towards Easy with his hands tucked in his pockets, though it did not help with the cold. He could see Captain Winters sitting on a fallen tree and shaving. It seemed odd to him, keeping a clean shave when it was a frozen wasteland out here. Winters suddenly dropped the razor.

"Doc, doc, doc," he whispered and kept his hand out to stop Gene. Eugene stopped in his tracks and crouched down. He looked over to see a German soldier relieving himself in the woods.

Winters waited until the man was done before capturing him. Gene got a kraut bandage off the soldier. He stood in the back of the group as General McAuliff and Colonel Sink drove up. He overheard Colonel Strayer and Captain Nixon inform them about the holes in the line, how they had no supplies left. Captain Nixon couldn't find the 501st on their flank. And First Battalion was pulling out of Foy, no back up, which meant a whole lot of shit was heading their way.

Once they left, Eugene followed Captain Winters back to his hole.

"Doc?" He asked.

"Can I scrounge a bandage from your aid kit sir?" He asked.

"How are you fixed?" Winters asked.

"No plasma, couple of bandages, practically no morphine," he explained their situation. "I tried to make my way up to Third Battalion, but I lost my way."

Captain Winters reached in his pack and handed Eugene the bandage he had left.

"If you can't get up to Third, hook up with Doc Ryan, he'll fix you up with what he has to spare," Captain Winters instructed.

"Thanks Captain," he replied.

"Oh, and Eugene, get as much as you can. You're going to need it."

"Captain, have you heard anythin' about Lieutenant Rousseau?" Gene asked. He hadn't heard anything since she went to Bastogne two days before.

"Sorry Doc, I haven't," he told him. "I wouldn't worry about her. If anyone can handle it, it's her."

"Okay, thanks Captain," Eugene said again.

He made it back to the line and found Spina digging in. The medics were moved closer to the line, making it easier for them to get to the wounded. They did a quick transfer of supplies, Roe had a bit more left then he did.

"What? That's it?" Spina asked.

"Yep, that's all we got," he said.

"Tapped out of Russ's supplies?" Spina questioned.

"Yep."

"Shit."

"You know, First Battalion's pulled outta Foy. Heavy casualties," he informed.

"If they're pulling out, why are we still here sittin' on our asses?" Spina asked.

Gene rooted through his musette bag and pulled out the last syrette of morphine. They needed more and fast, otherwise they were in trouble. Gene wondered how many of the guys kept their syrettes from Holland. They needed anything they could get.

"First Sergeant Lipton!" Lieutenant Dike's loud voice caught both Spina and Gene off guard. "What's this, two medics in one hole?"

"Yes sir," Spina answered.

"What's gonna happen to us if you take a hit?" Dike retorted.

Sergeant Lipton came over. It turned out Dike was over by them because he'd gotten lost on the way to his foxhole. Lipton showed him the way back.

" _Couillon,"_ He muttered under his breath. Gene didn't think they could do any worse than Captain Sobel.

"I'm gonna see if any of the men still have morphine," Gene told him. "Scrounge up what you can. We're gonna need it."

Without Claire around, Gene was the one who stepped up. He did the same thing back in Holland after she got wounded. Still, he needed her around. Even just two days, and he could feel the long strain of being hungry, freezing, and terrified. No one slept for long. It was too cold. No matter how hard any of them tried, they couldn't get warm. Eugene had never been as cold and miserable in his life. He missed his best friend, his mom, his home… anything that wasn't here.

After Claire had been wounded in Holland, it didn't strike him until the next day how much of a constant she'd been. There were little things she would do that when she wasn't around he missed. Like how she would hum while she would work, never in the intense moments but after things would settle down, though Gene didn't think she even realized she was doing it. When she came back and she, Gene, and Spina were working at the aid station one day and she began humming quietly. Gene remembered Spina muttering to him, asking what song it was.

" _My Blue Heaven._ " He recognized the tune. It was her favourite.

Little things like that he missed most about her. He thought about that night back in Holland where he talked about Mary and she talked about her parents. Until that night in Mourmelon, he couldn't understand why she only talked about them every once in a while.

Eugene went from foxhole to foxhole asking for morphine. Most of the men had used it up in Holland, or they were lying but Gene wasn't going to go through their stuff. Sergeant Guarnere had a urinary tract infection, but Eugene had nothing to treat it. He doubted that even the Aid Station in Bastogne had any penicillin to spare.

* * *

"He's gone," Claire told O'Connor. "Move onto someone you can help."

Claire looked down at the corpse of the dead soldier and closed his eyes. His chest had been blown open by a grenade. It was a miracle he lasted as long as he did. The boy was probably fresh out of the States. He was much too young to be dead in this frozen wasteland. Claire collected his tag and wrote his name, Frederick Green, in her book.

"Melville, O'Connor," she ordered two medics nearby. "Grab a stretcher and take him outside. We need the space."

"Yes, ma'am."

In the last hour, they'd lost four men. They were all hanging on by a thread when they came in. Frederick Green had been the last one. Just before he died, a priest came by and gave him his last rites. Claire waited until the priest came by after a soldier died to clear out the space. They left the bodies outside in front of the church because there was no other place to put them. It wasn't respectful, but they had no other choice.

"Lieutenant, we got another one!" O'Connor yelled out.

"Bring him over here!" She ordered as she led them to the right side of the church in a room where they cleaned the bandages. The soldier was bleeding heavily from his side. "Where's his tag?"

O'Connor handed it to her. The soldier had gotten hit in the side by a piece of shrapnel. He'd been given one syrette of morphine. The bandage was seeping with blood. The soldier had an ashy colour to his skin. He was losing too much blood.

"Melville, get plasma and bandages," Claire ordered. Melville ran to the supply room. "O'Connor, keep his legs elevated."

 _C'mon God, give us this one._

They had to change the bandage and slow the bleeding down so he wouldn't go in shock. O'Connor propped his legs up.

"Melville!" She barked. The young medic came darting back into the room, a few bandages and a bottle of precious plasma in his hand.

"We gotta do this fast. O'Connor, get that plasma goin'." O'Connor started tapping on the soldier's arm to make a vein appear. "Melville, when I say go, I'm gonna need you to hold him up so I can tie the bandage."

Once the plasma was in, and O'Connor holding it, Claire undid the old bandage and tossed it to the side. They would most likely be able to clean it and reuse it later.

"Go!" Claire ordered. Melville lifted the soldier up by his shoulders. Blood was pouring out of the man's wound. She made quick work to tie the bandage around his torso. Melville put the soldier back down on his back. "Let's move him to the empty cot. Make him comfortable."

"Yes, ma'am," they both replied.

"I'll take his legs, Melville, his top half and O'Connor keep holding the plasma. On three. One, two, three." They hoisted the soldier up in the air and carefully carried him back to the main room. They laid him down on the empty cot and Claire grabbed one of the metal poles to hook up the plasma.

"Melville, O'Connor, wake Carson and Jones, it's your turn to rotate for sleep," she said.

"Ma'am, when do you sleep?" Melville asked.

She'd been avoiding sleep. Sleep and rest gave her time to think and that was the last thing she wanted to do. But, she was barely able to stay standing. She knew she needed sleep. Otherwise, what good would she be?

"Tell Carson and Jones to wake me in three hours."

She could run on three hours. She laid a blanket on the ground near the altar of the church and laid another one on top of herself. She used her coat as a pillow, finding little use for it indoors. She let her men have the cots. Honestly, at this point, sleeping on the ground made for a nice break from a foxhole. Here, she had a roof over her head and that was enough.

Her exhaustion caught up with her. The second she laid her head down on the makeshift pillow, she fell asleep.

Claire was bouncing around the aid station from person to person, they'd only lost two men that night. Renée was helping her triage some of the new arrivals. Anna was patching up a man who had a large gaping hole in his side.

The top level was saved for walking wounded. The bottom level was for priority cases. The surgeon, Wilkes, was almost constantly working, until Claire would drag him away. She had to pull rank on him a few times, but it didn't bother her as much. If it got him to listen, she'd do it. They needed their surgeon to be alert.

Because they had no way out of Bastogne, the wounded couldn't be evacuated. They were running short on space and supplies. It was to a point where the walking wounded were helping them. A few of the villagers began volunteering to help as well. They cut up most of the sheets for bandages.

Claire and Melville were working on a soldier who had a gunshot wound in his side and a leg that was almost entirely blown off. It was dangling by some muscle and tissue. It would need to be amputated, and luckily, Claire was well-versed in that surgery. Wilkes was busy trying to fix a soldier's chest that had been blown open.

"Melville, tie the tourniquet," she ordered.

He did as he was told. Carson was helping too since they needed someone to monitor the anesthesia. They injected the soldier with the anesthesia and he fell asleep. It wasn't a long procedure, thankfully.

They had to get the rest of the leg off before they could bandage it up. She used the saw from the amputation kit Wilkes had and got to work. They had plasma going and a very precious supply of blood for transfusion. They only ever used it in surgery, and their supplies were dwindling. It was to a point where Claire had begun asking soldiers for volunteers to donate. Luckily, many were more than happy to do it.

"Bandages," she said and put the saw down. She'd made the amputation a few inches above the knee where Wilkes had instructed her to. They bandaged up the stump and disposed of the severed limb.

"Carson, keep monitoring him until he wakes up. Melville, you're with me," she instructed.

"Yes, ma'am," they said in unison. Melville followed Claire out of the room.

"You know, you remind me of someone," Melville voiced.

"I do?" Claire wondered.

"Yeah, my older sister Jo," he said. "She's bossy too."

"Bossy?" Claire questioned. Melville seemed to realize what he'd said and he started stammering.

"N-Not in a bad way," he stammered. "I just… I mean… Oh God…"

Claire, taking pity on the boy, started laughing. "Quit while you're behind, kid."

"I didn't mean it the way it came out," Melville repeated. "I meant that my sister is the oldest and my mom's not really around all that much since she works as a maid because my dad can't hold down a job. I'm rambling, aren't I?"

Claire smirked. "Yeah, but it's entertainin' watching you stumble."

"My point is, there's no one I admire more than my sister Jo because she is the strongest person I know, and you remind me of her," he concluded. "I've never met another woman who could make a guy cower with one look like you can. Thought only Jo could."

Claire felt flattered by the sentiment. "Thank you, Melville, now c'mon, we got plenty of work to do."

"Yes, ma'am."

There was not a moment where Claire's hands weren't covered in blood. She was exhausted, hungry, and in need of a shower. Claire ate enough to get by. She made sure her patients and her team had food. Emotionally, it was draining constantly watching men slowly and painfully die, and knowing there was nothing she could do to stop it.

There were cases of battle fatigue. Which meant that on top of being a nurse to the physically wounded, she also needed to help the emotionally scarred. She watched her medics, making sure they didn't suffer the same way. Whenever she saw it coming, Claire got them out of there. She would send them out of the hospital to gather more sheets and blankets from the locals. There were always signs of someone getting battle fatigue. They would have that far away stare, not seeing anything, then they would take off their helmet, let it fall, and then ruffle their hair.

Claire was re-bandaging a soldier's stump. The most difficult part was keeping infection down. She knew infection could kill as brutally as a bullet. Keeping wounds clean and sulfa were the only way to prevent it.

"No, no, here, put him here," she heard Renée instruct. Claire kept to her work. Renée would come get her if it was bad. The soldier she was re-bandaging had woken up once again. He was groaning and moaning in pain. Claire grabbed some alcohol and gave him a glass to help dull the pain.

"You got a smoke?" He asked her while grunting in pain.

Claire reached into her breast pocket and pulled out the pack of cigarettes. She handed him one and lit it.

"What's your name, soldier?" She asked.

"McCoy, ma'am, William," he introduced himself.

"Well, William, you're gonna be fine," she assured him. "Gonna get you outta here soon as we can."

"Thanks, Doc," he replied. Claire gave him a small reassuring smile before getting up.

"Lower leg wound, no morphine." Claire stopped at the familiar voice.

She walked towards the voice and saw Eugene standing there, his back to her, but she knew it was him. Renée poured a glass of whiskey for Sisk, who was lying on the table.

"Nurse, you got plasma? I can…" Renée cut him off.

"Wait, please," she said.

"It's alright, Renée, I can help him," she told the young nurse.

Eugene turned around and she saw the dark circles around his eyes. The last time they spoke was when he told her about James.

"Merci," Renée told her gratefully before she headed off back to work.

"Gene, follow me," she told him.

There was a bit of awkwardness between them.

"Why ain't any of these men been evacuated?" He asked her as they walked to the supply closet in the back.

He didn't know. They were trying to keep it from the enlisted men, keep morale from dropping too low, but that was foolish now.

"We're surrounded," she explained while she grabbed supplies. "This is the end of the line."

She handed him a box and filled it with bandages, syrettes of morphine, sulfa powder and tablets.

"Are those sheets?" He asked.

"Yeah, for bandages."

"You got any plasma?" He asked.

"I can only give you a bottle," she told him. "We're scrounging here too."

She knew that plasma was dire on the battlefield.

"Thanks."

The awkwardness only thickened.

"How…" She started.

"I…" He said at the same time.

They stopped.

"You go first," Claire told him.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I shoulda told you."

"Yes," she agreed. "You should've. Why didn't you?"

That was the part that bothered her the most. The 'Why'.

"I didn't know how," he admitted. "I told him he shoulda told you the truth."

"Eugene, I'm not mad at you," she assured him. "Henry should've told me, not you… but I'm… well not glad that you told me, but it's better that I know the truth and not some story."

There was a small smile on his lips but it didn't reach his eyes.

"How are you with…?" He drifted off.

"I'm dealing," she told him. Well, she was trying too. "Are you doing okay?"

"I'm fine," he replied.

"And the rest of the guys? We lose anybody?" She asked.

"Not anyone that wouldn't have come through here," he replied. "They're okay. Tired… cold… hungry. Are you okay?"

"Mhm. I'm fine."

She was exhausted, constantly surrounded by death, but besides that she was fine.

"Oh, before I forget," Eugene said as he slipped something off his neck. "This is yours."

He put it in her hand. She felt the familiar grooves in her hand. Tears pricked her eyes. To Eugene, this probably was not as big a deal as it was for her. He didn't know the significance of what he'd given her.

"W-Where did you find this?" She asked. "I thought I lost it."

"You oughta clean out your bag more," he stated.

This whole time? It was at the bottom of her bag? How could she not have known?

She put it around her neck. She felt better.

"Who's the nurse?" He asked. Claire looked over and saw Renée bandaging a soldier.

Claire smiled at him.

"Her name's Renée. She volunteered to help," Claire explained. "And, just in case you were wondering… she ain't married."

Eugene flushed, Claire laughed. "I… I should get back to the line."

Her smile dropped. "Eugene… Thank you for finding this," she said. "And please… look after yourself."

She couldn't lose him too.

"Tell my boys I say hi."

He nodded before turning to walk away.

"And Gene… be safe out there."

"Aren't I always?" He asked.

"Yeah, just like I am," she replied sarcastically. He smiled at her before turning and walking away.

When he was gone, Claire let out a breath to compose herself. She couldn't focus on Easy Company, on Eugene Roe, no matter how much she hated being away. She had a duty here to the wounded. This was what she came to do, to help people. That's what she needed to remind herself of constantly.

Claire walked out and saw Gene talking to Renée briefly and walked out. She saw Renée smile and a few moments after Gene walked out, the young nurse walked out with a bar of chocolate in hand. Claire's lips twitched and she shook her head and kept going about her work.

Claire went over and checked on Sisk. She liked Sisk, he was a good man. She'd known him since Toccoa. He was there when she got wounded in Holland. He tried to pull her back. He was a good soldier, smart.

"How's it goin' Sisk?" She asked. He was still drinking his booze.

"Been better, Russ. Booze helps," he told her.

"Don't it always?"

"Pretty nurses help to."

Claire laughed. "Yes they do. I'm gonna take a look at your wound, that alright?"

He nodded. Claire went over to his leg and undid the bandage. She pulled out the tweezers from her kit. Gene got out the big chunks, those were the priority. Claire apologized as she poked at the wound and removed any pieces that might be remaining.

"Jesus, you always this delicate?" Sisk whined as Claire tugged at a piece of tree burst embedded deep in his leg.

"Only for you," she replied. "Take it this way, once I'm done pokin', I'll get you some hot chow."

"Can the pretty nurse feed it to me?" He asked.

"Keep it in your pants, Skinny," she joked. She hadn't realized that she used Sisk's nickname until after she did it. Claire poured some more sulfa on his leg and put a new bandage on. "Now, I'm gonna see about gettin' you some food."

"Thanks."

Claire sent Melville, Carson, and some of the walking wounded to help get the food down to the patients who couldn't get it for themselves. She hadn't left the main room for more than a few minutes since she got here. She needed to catch her breath, breathe some fresh air.

"Jones, I'm steppin' outside for some air," she told him. "Come get me if there's a problem."

"Sure thing, ma'am."

"Oh, and make sure y'all get some food, alright?"

"Of course."

Claire walked up the steps and out of the church. The fresh air felt good in her lungs. It was still daylight; she hadn't seen much of the sun since she got to Bastogne. The pit where Claire spent her time did not have much in the way of natural lighting. Her eyes took a moment to adjust to the daylight.

She took a smoke from her pack of cigarettes and put it to her lips and lit it. She inhaled deeply. The medallion around her neck, she couldn't help but wonder how Henry got it. In moments alone, she couldn't stop thinking about James. She'd been so busy the last few days, she hadn't had much time to think.

Her hands turned red in the cold. Claire could hear the artillery far away. She prayed it wasn't aimed at her company. She reached in her other pocket and pulled out the small leather bound journal. She leafed through the pages, only to find that once again, it was full. The last five pages were names of soldiers that had died over the last few days. She wrote them down again on a separate page to give Colonel Sink every night.

She reached in the other breast pocket and found the small notebook she found on the German soldier's body all the way back in Normandy. Hard to believe she still had the thing. She sighed and opened to the blank page. She wasn't sure what day it was anymore but she knew it had to be close to Christmas. She started writing, describing everything that happened over the last four days.

The longer she let her mind stew, the more scenarios she came up with. She would never truly know what happened that day, and that was the part that hurt and frustrated her the most. She spent three years dealing. She'd begun to make some peace with it.

"Claire?"

She looked over to see Renée coming towards her with a mess kit that held some food.

"Melville asked if I could bring this for you."

She had a thick French accent when she spoke. Claire put out her cigarette, put the journal back in her breast pocket, and took the bowl of now lukewarm stew.

"Merci," Claire thanked her. She took a bite of the beans. They were warm which was nice since she was starting to freeze. Renée was still standing there. "Is there something else?"

"The medic who was here earlier, Eugene, you know him?" Renée asked.

"Yeah, he's my friend. Why d'you ask?" She replied.

"Curious," was all she said.

"He's a good man. One of the best I know," Claire added. "And I happen to know that he's not with anyone."

She blushed. Claire smiled.

"It's alright, Renée. It's just us girls. Sit down. They can handle it without us for a few minutes."

Renée sat down on the steps next to her.

"He seems kind, but…"

"But what?" Claire asked.

"How can I think about that when there's so much death around us?" Renée asked. "When

there's so much pain and suffering?"

"What you do for the men… you've got a gift."

She had a comforting presence about her.

Renée shook her head. "After this, I never want to fix another wounded man again. It's like working in a butcher's shop."

"But you're savin' people," Claire countered. "Ain't that enough?"

"They are in pain."

"It reminds them that they're alive," Claire retorted. She thought about James dying alone in the belly of the Arizona.

"Not when they spend their days crying out for their mothers or God to take it away," Renée argued.

"Ain't that what life is… pain?" She countered. Even if he was in pain, he'd be alive. She would still have him.

"It's more than that. There must be more. To live a life in pain, is not living at all."

"I'm sure a lot of men down there would disagree with you."

"You must have suffered greatly to see the world like that," Renée deduced. Claire remained quiet. "I hope, if you live, that you find joy."

Renée got up after that and went back inside.

* * *

 **I thought maybe I should give you a bit of a longer chapter this time. Most of the time when I decide what's a 'chapter' it mostly goes with the story I want to tell in that particular chapter.**

 **The references I made to pop culture: _My Blue Heaven_ is by Gene Austin. It was a popular song from 1927. _I'll Be Seeing You_ is originally by Sammy Fain but was later covered by multiple artists including Billie Holiday and Frank Sinatra. **

**Chapter Title reference: SNAFU was military slang for Situation Normal All Fucked (or Fouled if they were feeling polite) Up. I felt like it was the perfect way to describe the siege of Bastogne.**

 **I hope you enjoyed it. Let me know what you thought!**


	14. Soldier On

Once Claire finished the plate of food, she went back inside and got back to work. She pushed Renée's words and James out of her head. There were more wounded coming in. It was a never ending stream. Colonel Sink and General McAuliffe came by to check in. Melville came down and got her. He took over picking out the bits of shrapnel out of the left side of a corporal.

"Lieutenant Rousseau," Colonel Sink greeted with a salute. Claire saluted at both of them.

"General McAuliffe, Colonel Sink," she greeted.

"Give it to me straight, Lieutenant, how's it going here?" He asked.

"SNAFU, sir." Which stood for: Situation Normal: All Fucked Up, the only way to describe the situation. "We're almost completely out of plasma. Low on morphine. We've been cutting up sheets to make bandages and washing old ones to re-use. We're runnin' out of pretty much everythin'. We've been triaging patients but, we're running out of space," she explained. "It's the same as it has been for days."

"We don't know when we're getting any kind of relief," McAuliffe informed her. "We have the Air Force waiting for the fog to clear to get supplies over. In the meantime, you hold the fort down here. Stretch out as much as you can."

"Yes, sir," she replied. She saluted both of them and then went back to work.

She hoped the fog cleared up soon. They needed supplies and fast. They needed relief to evacuate the men. Claire's old wounds were beginning to stiffen up. It didn't help that her wounds were not entirely healed when she went AWOL from the hospital. While she was hunched over yet another casualty of a mortar hit, picking out bits of shrapnel, she stopped and stretched her left shoulder, the one where she got shot.

It was never quiet, never restful, and Claire didn't stop working. She'd slept two hours the night before instead of one. Carson woke her up late. She was still alert enough to keep working. Her exhaustion is what kept her awake.

 _Please God, give us some relief._ She silently prayed, something she had not done in a very long time, as she went to another new casualty who had been shot twice in the chest.

 _Please, help us._

* * *

When he got back to Easy, he had to sit back while First Platoon went on a reconnaissance patrol. They lost Julian. He'd been shot in the neck. Another replacement got shot in the side and was evacuated to Bastogne. Gene wished he could've been there. Maybe if he had been there, he could've helped.

 _Don't dwell._ He could hear Claire's voice chastising him. He remembered that day back at Carentan. He'd kept those words with him all through the war. Claire was right, dwelling kept him from doing his job.

Eugene was sitting alone away from the group. The air in camp was quiet, somber, as it normally was when one of the men died. He leaned back against the tree and remembered the bar of chocolate in his pocket. Quietly, he took it out and smelt it. He could almost taste the sweetness of the treat. He thought about Renée, how nice and pretty she was. Heffron stared at him from the small cooking fire. Gene put the chocolate back in his pocket.

Being in town today, Eugene wasn't sure what to expect. He'd known it was bad, given that they pulled Claire off the line, but he didn't expect it to be _that_ bad. The church reeked like death and corpses were left outside like it was nothing. Claire looked like Hell. She had dark circles under her eyes. Her skin was pale, sickly. Her hair had grown since she last cut it back in Aldbourne, it was matted and greasy. The bright smile he loved didn't reach her eyes, which were hardened. No longer were they that soft blue he remembered from Toccoa. No one in Easy was the same as they had been at Toccoa. He couldn't think about the tired expression on her face, not when he had a job to do.

After the fire was put out and the OP was rotated out. Gene thought about the look of despair on Heffron's face. He needed to check on him, make sure he was okay. He wasn't in his hole. Eugene went around the line checking every hole.

"Hey Doc," Muck greeted when he poked his head under the cover over top of his, Malarkey's, and Penkala's.

"Hey, you guys seen Heffron?" He asked.

"Not since this afternoon," Muck answered. "Did you see Russ when you were in town?"

"Yeah," he answered.

"How is she?" Muck asked.

Eugene thought about the circles under her eyes, the blood staining her clothes, the stench of death in the church.

"She's doin' fine," he lied. "She says hi."

Muck seemed to see through it but he didn't say anything.

"Bundle up," Gene advised before slipping out from under the cover.

He ran into Toye while looking for Heffron. Toye had trench foot. He recommended going off the line but Toye was refusing. Gene had known Joe Toye long enough to know that this wasn't something that would take him off. That's the kind of guy he was. Eugene advised Toye to make sure he changed his socks often, dry the wet ones around his neck, and massage his feet. Gene made a note to keep an eye on that.

He found Heffron in Spina's hole. Spina and Heffron bonded over the fact that they were both from South Philly. He was leaning on Spina like a crutch.

"Found you," Gene said as he slipped into the hole.

Heffron wasn't moving. He simply stared straight. That look he'd seen so many times before a soldier finally had enough. He pulled out the chocolate bar from his pocket, opened up the pack and held it out to him.

"Heffron… Edward," Gene urged. "Eat it."

Heffron took it and reluctantly took a bite.

"Good," Gene told him.

"He asked me… if ever he got hit that I'd take his stuff back to his Ma," Heffron struggled. "I promised him. Now the fucking krauts'll strip him."

"It's okay…" he tried to comfort him.

"No it's not," Heffron snapped back. "I shoulda got him."

He wanted to tell him what Claire told him, not to dwell on it. He didn't because Heffron was different from Claire and him. It was a different situation. If Eugene dwells on every soldier that died under his hands, he wouldn't be able to do his job and more would die. Some soldiers needed a moment to compose themselves, especially at night when it's nearly impossible not to think about their dead friends or about home.

Eventually, Heffron fell asleep. The three of them were huddled together. This was the warmest he'd been since arriving in Bastogne. And that wasn't saying much since he was still frozen. They talked a bit, Eugene told Spina about how his grandma was a _traiteuse._ How he remembered her praying while taking away the pain of others.

"Still don't know why they picked me for a medic," Spina admitted. "Snap of a finger, and just like that you're a medic. I dunno about you, but I'm tired of playing doctor."

Gene didn't reply, but he was tired of it too.

* * *

Death was draining. Claire was sick of constantly watching soldiers die. She thought about what Renée said, about how she hated to hear the cries of the dying men. What worried her was when they stopped crying out. Usually, that meant they were asleep or dead. Most times, it was difficult to tell. The weight of the responsibility she had was heavy on her shoulders. She tried not to take the deaths to heart, but every time she added a name to her list, it became more difficult.

Claire was patching up a soldier who'd been shot through the knee. He was downing some whiskey when all of a sudden Melville came running down the steps.

"Lieutenant! Lieutenant!" He exclaimed.

"What is it Melville?" She asked not looking up from her patient.

"It's a drop, ma'am! It's a supply drop!" He told her. She stopped what she was doing.

"Don't just stand there! Grab O'Connor and some of the walking wounded to grab as much as you can. Plasma, morphine, and sulfa are your number one priorities. Bandages and gauze are second."

Claire looked up towards the sky and thanked God.

They can reuse bandages, they can't reuse plasma, morphine, or sulfa. Claire finished bandaging up the soldier. By the time she'd gotten three more, Melville and O'Connor came back with at least three bags each. The walking wounded, two soldiers with arms in slings, carried down a bag each. The bags had the red cross symbol.

"Over here," she ordered them.

They went back for more and came back with the same amount.

After the second time, she sent Melville and O'Connor back into the pit while she dealt with the supplies. This drop was a gift. They received more medical supplies, not nearly enough if they were cut off for an undetermined amount of time, but they would make do. She put some on the side for the companies that would more than likely need the supplies. She thought about Gene, and how very little her boys had.

Almost as if he could hear her thinking about him, she saw him come in the room.

"Claire," he said.

"Gene, hey, here for supplies?" She asked.

"Yeah, got anythin' to spare?" He replied.

She nodded and pointed to the table. "Those two boxes over there are for you."

"Medic! Someone give us a hand here!"

Claire ran out of the room and saw two men carrying a soldier who was bleeding heavily from his midsection.

"Here," she ordered and led them to a small section normally reserved for surgery. "Bring him over here."

She led them to the hallway that was converted into more space for surgeries. Wilkes was occupied with another soldier.

"Renée!" Claire called out. As the two medics laid him down on the table and then had to leave. Claire tore off the soldier's shirt. His wounds were gushing blood.

Eugene came running in. Claire was trying to stop the bleeding, but it was impossible.

"The artery!" Claire barked. Gene nodded and stuck his hand through a large entry wound.

"Je la trouve pas!" he exclaimed. His hand going in deeper, the soldier had blood shooting out of his mouth.

"Anna! Renée!" She yelled for either one of them. Renée came running in. She was trying to help Claire stop the bleeding.

"Je la trouve pas!" Eugene repeated. "Je la trouve pas!"

 _C'mon, not again._

"C'mon, stay alive," she quietly begged the soldier. She and Renée frantically tried to at least slow the bleeding.

"Je la trouve pas!" Gene said as he struggled to find the artery.

Claire looked up at the soldier's face and saw that his eyes had closed and he wasn't choking on his blood anymore. His chest was still. The three of them stopped. Eugene's eyes met hers and she swallowed the lump in her throat.

Gene removed his hand from inside the wound and threw the bandage he had in his hand on the ground in frustration. Claire had looked down and swallowed her own feeling of despair and anger. Renée had already left the room. Claire took out her notepad and wrote the soldier's name down. _Samuel McGuire._ Gene was still looking at the body, waves of frustration radiating off of him. Claire grabbed a blanket and covered the corpse.

"Gene, come outside with me. I need some air," she suggested in a hollow tone. His eyes tore away from the body. He nodded and they walked out.

They sat in two chairs in the rubble. Claire lit up a cigarette, her hard exterior was getting hard to keep up.

"Where did the black girl come from?" Eugene asked curiously.

"Congo," Claire answered keeping her voice under control. "But she's been in Belgium for a while. She came to help. She's a very good nurse."

"Sometimes I wonder why they picked me for a medic," Eugene said. Claire gave him an odd look. "I ain't a doctor. I ain't ever gonna be one…"

"You don't need to be a doctor or want to be one to be a medic," she replied. "I dunno why they chose you, but I'm glad they did. You're good at your job."

"I had a good teacher," he replied. Claire smiled and then looked at her hands.

"Then I guess it's a good thing I'm here then."

"D'you ever wonder why they picked you?" Gene asked. "To come to all this?" Claire let out an exasperated laugh.

"You know, that hospital sure gives people a lot of time to think since there ain't much else to do. You wonder how you got here, and you ask yourself _'why me?'._ Didn't take me all that long to figure it out. I think I've always known but I never wanted to admit it…" She rambled.

"Admit what?"

Claire looked into his deep brown eyes.

"I lost my mother, my father, my brother… everyone. If I die out here, no one is gonna mourn me. I'll just disappear. Be another name on the casualties list. That's why they picked me. I'm expendable."

Saying the words out loud made it all the more real and all the more depressing. She stared blankly ahead into the rubble of Bastogne, not wanting to see Eugene's pitying gaze. She was alone in the world, no home, nothing to go back to. She thought about Eleanor Thomson, and how she was another name on a list. Just like her.

 _You must have suffered greatly to see the world in such a way._ That was what Renée had told her. Claire had suffered. She was still suffering, but she soldiered on because she had nothing else.

"Lieutenant Rousseau!" She heard Melville call her as a truckload of wounded pulled up. Claire got up from her spot and put out her cigarette.

"Claire…" She heard Gene say her name. Claire turned to look at him. "Are you okay?"

There it was, the one constant between the two. Whenever they thought the other might slip, they would ask that.

"Gotta be," she answered.

Claire turned back around and ran over. She had to stay strong, there were people depending on her. How she got here doesn't matter. She was here now.

* * *

 **When I originally came up with this character, it was in an almost completely different setting (a setting I may still do later but it's not connected to fanfic) but when I decided to write All This Hell, I had to think of a reason why Claire Rousseau, a young nurse, would be chosen over someone with more experience. It seemed more believable to me that they would chose women who essentially walk in the shadows, under the radar because they have no biological family (At least none that they speak to).**

 **I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Please let me know if you did. I really do love getting your feedback.**


	15. Valor

_No one's gonna mourn me._

The words echoed in his mind. Hearing her say them broke his heart because he knew they weren't true. He knew about her mom and about her brother, but she never mentioned her father. She didn't talk about home, or her family. She would change the subject when he would ask. Now, he understood why.

Eugene laid back in his hole and wrapped himself up in his blanket. He went and did his rounds, making sure all the men were covered, before trying to get some sleep. He still couldn't get her words out of his head.

He was tired, but the freezing cold and the fear of the enemy prevented most sleep. He did get a few fitful moments, but not much. It certainly didn't help that he couldn't get Claire out of his head. Nor did it help that he all he could see were dead soldiers when he closed his eyes. He was tired of shellings, of cries for a medic, of men dying or getting so hurt they wished they were dead… War was exhausting. It beat and broke down even the strongest of men, and Eugene was just about beaten.

 _I'll just disappear._

He couldn't believe that. He didn't want to.

He was exhausted, distracted… he'd barely heard Lipton running by, telling him to get ready.

 _No one's gonna mourn me._

 _I'll just disappear._

"Medic!" Someone yelled.

 _Disappear._

"Gene, c'mon! We gotta go," Spina told him.

 _Gotta go._

 _Don't dwell on it._

"Okay, go!" Gene declared as he got out of the foxhole. He sprinted through the tree bursts, bullets ripping through the air, towards the call for a medic.

It was Gordon. More and Alley were over him. Gene pushed through them.

"Smoke!"

Smokey's face was ashen, he was panicking.

"I can't feel my legs, Gene," he sobbed.

 _Shit._

"Take it easy! Get the plasma from my foxhole!" he ordered. Alley took off.

Gene pulled out bandages from his pack and the sulfa. He saw that the bullet ripped through Smokey's arm and through the other side. Alley came running and gave him the bottle of plasma.

"They're coming!" Someone yelled out. Gene looked up to see Tiger Tanks heading their way.

"You got this?" Alley asked.

"Yeah, go!" Gene replied. Alley ran and dove into the foxhole.

Gene worked on patching Smokey up, when he finished, he called for Lipton to help. They dragged Gordon away from the fire. When they were far enough, Gene stopped Lipton. Smokey was losing consciousness. Gene had to insert the plasma. There was nothing to tie around Smokey's arm, which would've made it easier to spot a vein. Every time he did this, he always remembered that day back at Toccoa.

"Hurry up, Doc, I gotta get back to the line," Lipton told him.

He tapped until Gordon's vein was visible and inserted the plasma.

"Hey! Hey! Give us a hand!" He heard Lipton yell. "I got you a ride."

Eugene and Lipton carried Gordon over to the jeep. He held the bottle of plasma. The jeep ripped down the path and sped to Bastogne. Two medics came by and lifted Gordon off the hood. Eugene followed behind them, still holding the plasma.

"Jones!" One of them called out. Another medic, Jones, came over.

"Put him over here," Jones directed them to an empty table. He looked over at Eugene accusingly. "Where's his tag? What's wrong with him?"

"Paralyzed," Eugene answered in a low voice. "Can't feel a thing."

Jones gave Gordon a pitying look before heading to work.

"Eugene?" He turned around to see Renée standing there.

"Renée," another medic further in the church.

"Are you…"

"Renée, I need your help," the medic called again.

"Are you alright?" She asked.

Eugene didn't answer. He didn't have it in him. He watched as she disappeared deeper into the aid station.

"Gene?" He looked back and saw Claire standing there, her eyes tired. She looked over and saw Gordon laying on the desk. He immediately saw the shift in Claire's demeanor. Her eyes became a steal wall. He could practically hear her telling herself _Don't dwell on it._ She became that soldier he knew.

 _No one's gonna mourn me._

He didn't stay that time, he turned and walked out of the building. Her words still echoing in his mind.

* * *

Once Gordon was looked after by Jones and Claire, she told him to take a break. He was going to protest.

"It's Christmas, Jones, take a break," she told him.

"You gonna take one too?" He asked.

Claire shook her head. "Someone's gotta stay up. It's my job to keep this place runnin'."

"Have I ever told you that I'm glad you're here?" Jones stated. That was certainly a change from when she first got here.

"Go get some rest," she told him. Claire started going around, making sure all the wounded were still alive.

They had the radio playing in the background. They normally had it on in the background. It was Axis Sally who kept telling them about how the krauts were only a few steps away. It unnerved the patients, so Claire made the decision to turn it off. Today, however, they managed to get Bing Crosby on the radio. He was singing _White Christmas_. Which made Claire want to laugh if she wasn't so damn annoyed.

"He wants a white Christmas so bad, he oughta come here. I'll show him a white Christmas," Claire grumbled under her breath loud enough for Melville to hear. He snickered.

Seeing Gene earlier, she'd broken for a moment, until she saw Gordon and things snapped. He looked almost dead when he came in. Skinny Sisk was moved to an overflow area that had Claire started in the building next door. That was where most of the walking wounded, battle-fatigue, and less severe cases of trench foot were held. O'Connor was there with Carson and Anna.

Gordon had woken up when Claire was close to him. She heard him moan in pain. Claire turned to him.

"Hey, Gordon," she smiled.

"Doc… Russ… I can't move," he sobbed.

"I know," she soothed taking one of his hands in hers.

Claire smoothed his hair with her other hand, trying to get him to calm down.

"You're gonna be okay," she told him. "We Louisiana bred are hard to kill."

"I'm sorry," he told her in a voice so quiet she almost didn't hear him.

"For what?" She asked.

"That day at Toccoa, it was me who tripped you," he admitted. She didn't know which time he was talking about.

"It's alright," she said. "You don't need to apologize. It was a long time ago."

"I'm glad I was wrong about you," he said as his eyes closed again. He'd passed out. Claire smoothed his hair once more and kept on her way.

Claire could hardly believe that it was Christmas. Last Christmas, Claire spent it on the base. It had been the best one she'd had since her father died. The one before that, she was granted a furlough and went back to Louisiana for a few days. She spent Christmas night in the graveyard and stayed in a motel before going back to base. Before that, she hadn't celebrated Christmas since her father had died. James was gone to the Navy. Claire always volunteered to work that day.

She hadn't realized how much time had passed until Renée came by and told her to eat food. Over the last day, Claire could feel a cold coming on. There was a scratch in the back of her throat, but she wouldn't let something like a cold keep her from her duties. Still, she sat off to the side and ate a small bowl of hot stew. She hoped that her men had hot food in their bellies, but she knew otherwise. Once she finished her meal, she went back to work.

When the first bombs hit, Claire could feel the ground shake. All movement stopped in the aid station. Claire looked up from the patient she was working on.

"Everybody, get back to work," she ordered.

Claire walked up the steps to the outside. The closer to the top she got, the more anti-aircraft fire she heard. Another bomb dropped nearby, the structure shaking. Claire peaked outside, bursts of light filled the the sky.

 _Oh my God…_

She heard the whistle as a round hit the backside of the church. It was starting to cave in.

 _Shit!_

Claire ran back in the hospital. She sprinted down the stairs.

"Lieutenant, what's going on?" Melville asked.

"We need to move the wounded to the other aid station," Claire told her staff.

Claire knew that if the building took another hit, they would be screwed. It would cave in the and bury them all.

"Melville, Renée, prepare the patients for transfer. Jones, with me…" she didn't have enough hands. She turned and pointed to the nine closest walking wounded. None of them had arm injuries. "You, you, you, you, you, you, you, you, and you, grab stretchers and help us carry them out."

Jones, Claire, and the walking wounded took stretchers and lifted the wounded and started moving them out one by one. Renée and Melville remained behind to prep the wounded. Claire and Jones worked together and carried Gordon out of the building.

 _Please God, help me get them out._

Claire's heart pounded in her chest as they walked up the steps. When they brought the first rounds of wounded, she ordered O'Connor, and Anna to set up the area while Carson helped them move wounded. Wilkes remained behind as well since he was their only surgeon.

"There's too many," Jones told her panicking, as they brought in wounded after wounded.

"Jones, it's our job to help these people, and that's what we're gonna do by getting as many out as we can," she told him. "Follow me!"

 _One more._

The adrenaline coursed through her veins. The new aid station was almost overflowing. They'd carried around thirty wounded, maybe more, she lost count. There were only five wounded soldiers left.

"Melville, Renée, help us with the last few," Claire ordered. They nodded and picked up one of the stretchers.

 _Just one more._

Claire and Jones were second in line to two of the walking wounded who were helping them. They were moving a little too slow for Claire's liking, but they'd carried dozens of men to safety, it wasn't surprising that they were tired. Jones held the front while Claire supported the rear. The soldier on the stretcher was looking around in alarm. She'd seen him come in just earlier that day. Claire gave him the most reassuring smile she could muster as they trekked up the stairs.

They made it to the main hall, the bombs were dropping closer. She could feel the floor shaking. They were running now towards the door.

 _We're gonna make it._

 _We're gonna…_

There was a blast, and suddenly Claire was knocked off her feet. Her head hit the ground.

Her ears were ringing. She looked around, disoriented. She looked over at the pile steel support beams that had come crashing down. In her haze she saw them. Melville was still standing, impaled by a beam. His head was lolling to the side; she could barely see the blood that came out of his mouth. Next to him was Renée. She'd been crushed, but Claire could still make out the sleeves from her dress. She had to get them out.

"Renée! Mel!" She yelled for them. Or she thought she was yelling. She could barely hear herself over the ringing.

"…Claire…" Through the ringing she could barely hear the familiar voice.

"Claire!" It was clearer now.

She was pulled up to her feet and she leaned on the person as he helped her out. She could register that it was Eugene. He ushered her out.

Renée. Melville.

"We have to help them," she told him.

"What?"

"Renée…"

"They're gone, Claire."

She could hear planes overhead and anti-aircraft fire as her hearing slowly cleared up. She looked back at the church.

"Don't look," he told her.

They made it back to the new aid station. She could see the chaos surrounding it as men cried out in agony.

"Lieutenant Rousseau!" She heard O'Connor yell out. She could see what looked like relief cross his expression.

"Get a chair," Eugene ordered him. O'Connor nodded and dashed off and returned moments later with one.

She could see the blood spurting out of a soldier's leg.

"Where does it hurt?" He asked her after he sat her down on a chair.

"Him," she pointed over to the soldier. "Go help him."

"Where does it hurt?" He pressed.

Claire pushed herself up off the chair. Her head was pounding but she wasn't nauseous. Her ankle throbbed but she could walk. She needed a sling for her shoulder, but she didn't think it was hurt too severely. She thought it could be a minor dislocation at worst. Nothing was broken as far as she could tell.

"I'm fine. Go help him!" She ordered.

Eugene didn't bother to fight her on this. He knew she wouldn't be a priority case in any other situation. When Eugene was out of sight, Claire made herself a sling and then limped over to her first patient.

She could see the blood pooling on the concrete ground as Melville and Renée lay dead.

 _Don't dwell on it, Claire. Don't dwell on it._

She had to do her job. _Stop thinking and concentrate._

"Lieutenant Rousseau." She was heading towards the next soldier when she saw Jones. His face covered in dirt and a bit of blood trickled from a cut on his forehead. "I thought you were dead. I thought…Mel and Renée…"

"Don't think about it now, Jones," she advised. "Let me have a look at your head."

"I'm okay," he assured. "Just a scratch."

She nodded. "Get back to work then."

"Yes, ma'am."

Claire didn't stop as she worked robotically, bouncing from patient to patient. She struggled to tie bandages but managed. Her ankle was still throbbing but her jump boots were keeping the swelling contained.

 _Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._ She cursed as she kept walking through the aid station and the pain was only getting worst.

To her surprise, she saw Carson lying on one of the tables unconscious. O'Connor was working on him.

"He got hit," O'Connor said. "Got hit in the back by shrapnel. He's next on Wilkes' list. Anna is helping him."

Claire looked down at him guiltily. She thought back to Melville.

"He doesn't know yet about Mel," O'Connor stated. "What happened to your shoulder?"

He was referring to the sling.

"It's fine," she assured.

"Uh-huh."

But he didn't say anything more.

Claire ran into Eugene and he looked at the sling and ushered her to a seat.

"Eugene, I'm fine," she assured.

"Would you just sit down for five fucking minutes?" He swore. Claire's eyes widened slightly, Gene never cursed. She sat down without argument after that.

He huffed. Claire bit her lip to keep the curse back as he slipped off the sling. His hand pressed, assessing what happened. She groaned painfully.

"Dislocated. Don't look bad though. Shoulda gotten to it sooner," he told her.

"The amount of people in here… I ain't a priority."

 _I'm expendable._

"This's gonna hurt," he warned.

Carefully, Eugene placed one hand on her shoulder and the other on her elbow.

"Fuck!" She cursed as Eugene reset the shoulder.

"I did tell you it was gonna hurt," he replied.

"Yeah… I know."

"Keep it in the sling for a few days."

"I know."

He helped her put the sling back around her arm.

"I'm gonna look at your ankle," he told her.

She nodded. She was too tired to fight on this.

"It's not broken," she assured. "Sprained at the most."

He took off her boot and checked it over.

"Your feet stink," he stated.

Claire smirked.

"Ain't like you're smelling like roses either."

She could see a small smile on his lips as he worked on her ankle.

"Ain't bad. I know you ain't gonna do it, but try to stay off it."

Just as soon as it came, the smile was gone.

"Eugene…"

She didn't know what to say.

"Things are calmin' down here. I oughta get back to the line," he said. Claire nodded.

"Thank you for helping," she replied. He didn't say anything. "Eugene… are you okay?"

It was a stupid question, of course he wasn't okay. But they were never entirely okay.

"Gotta be," he said. He repeated the words she told him the days before at the church.

She watched as he walked away. Claire put her boot back on and slowly got up back to work. Whatever she was feeling towards Eugene at the moment had to be pushed away.

After Eugene left, and Claire kept working, she found Harry Welsh. He was unconscious, a bandage wrapped around his upper thigh. Claire sat in the chair next to the table where he lay and used her one good hand to check the bandages. His wound was right next to his groin. Claire did not want anymore bad news. She took a deep breath before checking.

 _Thank God._

Everything was right where it ought to be. Claire sighed in relief and then put the bandage back.

"You're gonna be okay, Harry," she assured her friend.

"Lieutenant Rousseau." Claire looked up from Harry to see O'Connor coming towards her. "Carson's awake."

Claire nodded. She knew that it was her duty to tell him. She'd been there.

She got up from her spot and went over to Carson's cot. His eyes were darting from side to side. Claire grabbed a chair from the table and sat down next to him.

"Lieutenant…" he mumbled.

"Carson…" she said sympathetically. She took him by the hand.

"Lieutenant…" he said again.

"It's alright," she tried to soothe.

"Lieutenant… I can't feel my legs," he cried. "I can't feel my legs."

He was sobbing. She didn't want to tell him that everything was going to be okay because she didn't know if it would be. He wiped away the tears from his eyes.

"Where's Mel?" He asked.

The look on Claire's face gave it away as she bit back tears.

"No…" he denied.

"I'm sorry," was all Claire could think to say. She swallowed the lump in her throat.

"He's… He's dead?" Carson asked.

One traitorous tear fell as she nodded.

"No… I was just talking to him earlier… no… he can't..."

"I saw him," she stated. "I'm sorry."

"How did it…? What…?"

Claire stumbled on what to say. How could she tell Carson what happened to Renée and Melville?

There was only one comfort she could give him. "He didn't feel any pain."

Whether or not this was true, she'd never know. But she could only hope that Melville never realized what happened, that it was instant.

Carson looked away from her. She remained at his side until he finally passed out once more. How she wished she could give him any type of relief. But she knew better than most that there wasn't one specific way a person reacts when they lose someone. It was better to be honest about what happened, that way they can deal with it and then move on.

* * *

 **I hope that you're all still enjoying the story. It would really mean a lot if you could tell me if you liked it or where I need to improve. This story really does mean a lot to me.**

 **Please drop a comment.**


	16. Relief

_December 26_ _th_ _1944_

Renée was buried with the soldiers that had died. Claire wrapped her in a parachute and laid her down. She put Melville next to her. Alexander Melville was twenty years old when he died. Renée was twenty-one. She was kind hearted and volunteered because she wanted to help people. She wanted to have a life, but it was cut short.

They'd lost two medical staff, five wounded soldiers, and countless amounts of supplies. Carson was badly wounded. They were cut almost in half of available staff to take care of the wounded. They were making do with what they had. Colonel Sink came by the morning after. Claire gave him the lowdown of what the situation was, and how many dead they had.

"There would've been a lot more if you hadn't jumped into action. You did a damn fine job, Lieutenant," Sink complimented. "I've recommended you for a medal."

"It wasn't just me, sir," Claire objected. "If anyone deserves it, it's my men. Private Melville died trying to carry a soldier to safety. Private Carson was paralyzed."

"How's the shoulder doing?" He asked. She knew he was avoiding her comment.

"It's fine, sir. Much better. I'll be able to take off the sling tomorrow," she informed.

"Good. Heal up, Lieutenant, we're gonna need you," Sink told her.

"Yes sir."

He left not long after that.

She was checking on Harry when she saw his eyes were wide open, darting around disoriented.

"Look who's finally awake. How're you feelin', Harry?" Claire asked as she checked over her friend. He was out of it all of yesterday. Claire kept him well bandaged up, the only thing she really could do since they didn't have any of the surgical supplies left.

"Claire?" He muttered.

"Hey Welshy, missed me?"

His eyes suddenly stared wide. She recognized the look, wounded men usually got it when they remembered what had happened to them.

"Am I… Can I…" He stammered.

"Harry, what is it?" She asked.

"Did it…"

"Spit it out, Harry," she told him.

"Can I still have kids?" He blurted out.

"Yeah," she answered with a smile. She checked. "There'll be plenty of little Harry's and Kitty's running around."

He sighed in relief.

"Lieutenant Rousseau! Lieutenant!" She turned away from Welsh to see O'Connor running in the aid station, dodging the cots.

"What is it?" She asked. He got in front of her, breathless.

"Patton broke through," he told her.

"What?"

"We're getting relief," he told her.

Claire stumbled back in disbelief. She looked around the crowded aid station and her heart swelled. She almost fell to her knees, the wind knocking out of her. She looked back at Harry and smiled.

"Looks like you're getting out of here, Harry."

* * *

By the end of December twenty-nineth, the aid station was emptied. Claire personally saw Skinny, Smokey, Carson, and Harry off. When the last patient was evacuated, all there was left was O'Connor, Jones, Wilkes, and Claire. Anna went back home since they had support now from Patton's medical division. She took off the sling that morning, though her shoulder was stiff, it wasn't in as much pain.

Colonel Sink gave her the order that she was to return to Easy Company.

"What about them?" Claire asked looking at her men.

"They're going to stay here and work with the few that were spared of the 326th Medical Division," Sink explained.

"Thank you, sir," she said. She saluted him.

"So that's it, huh? Heading back to the line?" O'Connor asked once the jeep arrived about a half hour later. Claire told her staff what was happening and gathered her things. She took a few bars of chocolate to give to her men.

"Looks like it," she told them. "You're gonna stay here with the rest of the 326th. Should be calmer, they're gonna be more aid stations and a field hospital."

"Good luck," Jones told her. "Don't get hurt."

"You boys stay safe, alright?" She told them.

"Yes ma'am," they said in unison. They saluted her, and she returned it.

And just like that, Claire got in the jeep and drove off. Claire was happy to be going back to Easy, which in itself was a little messed up since she was going back to the front line. But she missed them. It was like when she broke out of the hospital. Only this time, she was more exhausted than she'd ever been.

* * *

Everything from the last week, from Mourmelon before were taking its toll. The scratch in the back of her throat was getting worst, her shoulder still hurt, but she pushed it all away.

When Claire pulled up to the line, it was meal time. The sun was about to set on the horizon. Heads turned towards the jeep.

"Thank you," she told the driver.

"Look who's back," Bill pointed as Claire walked back over to them.

"Hey boys," she greeted. She could see most of Second Platoon, minus Malarkey, Muck and Penkala going for food.

"We were wondering when you'd show your face back here," Toye spoke.

"Yeah, we were starting to think you forgot about us," Babe Heffron said.

"How could I ever forget your ugly mug, Heffron?" Claire joked.

She noticed the blue fabric around Heffron's hand. Claire knew where it was from.

"How'd you do that?" Claire asked, pointing to his hand.

"This? It's nothin', cut my hand. Doc patched me up," he explained.

"You oughta be more careful," she chastised.

"Ah, there she is," Heffron said. "Missed ya, Russ."

Claire left them so they could get food and she walked over to where the other officers were standing. Enlisted men ate first.

"I was just thinking that you'd be back anytime," Lew said when she walked up. She stood between Dick and Lew.

"Woulda been back sooner, but had to see the wounded off," she explained. "Harry's safe. Put him in the ambulance myself last night. Same with Sisk and Gordon."

"We missed you around here," Dick told her.

"Lieutenant Rousseau," she turned around to see Dike standing there. "What are you doing just standing there? Shouldn't you be working?"

"Of course, sir," Claire responded with a forced smile. "I was on my way, sir."

"Captain Winters, Captain Nixon," he saluted Dick and Lew before stalking back towards his foxhole.

"Always a charmer, isn't he?" Claire muttered after Dike walked away.

"Welcome back, Claire," Lew laughed.

"See you around."

She walked closer to the line. First thing she needed to do was find her old foxhole and then find Eugene to get a clear picture of what they had to work with. She found her foxhole with Luz. She slipped inside and saw that Muck and Malarkey were there too.

"Hey fellas, how's it hangin'?" Claire asked as she plopped between Muck and Luz.

"Russ, when did you get back?" Muck asked.

"Um, not long," she answered. "Thought maybe it was time to come back, make sure you knuckle-heads didn't do anything stupid while I was gone."

"Ah, we'd never do anything like that," Malarkey said.

"That's rich coming from the guy who ran into the line of fire for a Luger," Luz teased.

"One time," Malarkey countered. Claire snickered, she'd missed them.

"See what happens when you're not around Russ? Total anarchy," Muck added.

"Well, lucky that I'm back then," she stated. "I gotta go find Doc, he still in the same hole as before?"

"Yeah, he is," Muck answered.

"Thanks."

Claire climbed back out to the cold frigid air. She walked along the line to find Eugene's foxhole. He had a cover now, thankfully. She lifted the cover and poked her head inside to see him sitting there, the remnants of a blue headscarf in his hand. He was staring blankly ahead; the same thousand-mile stare she'd seen on countless other soldiers.

 _I'm not gonna lose you too._

"Found you," she said. He looked up and Claire slipped in. She sat across from him.

"So, you're back then?" He questioned in a low, somewhat cold voice.

"Yeah, guess they got sick of me and sent me back here," she tried to make light of the situation.

He still didn't meet her eye.

What the Hell was happening?

"So, I came by to get my musette bag back, and to get an idea of what supplies we have," she

told him.

Gene handed her the musette bag, still not looking at her. "We're low on a lot, but we should be gettin' more supplies in the morning, now that Patton's broke through."

"Ok, I'll make a list of what we need," she said.

"Fine. How's the shoulder?" He asked.

"It's alright. Stiff, sore, but I'll manage," she explained.

He was still looking at his hands.

"Gene, what's going on?" She asked.

"I just told you," he answered.

"No, I mean why are you bein' like this?" She specified.

"Bein' like what?"

Claire stumbled a bit on what to say next. He was upset about something. She looked down at the fabric still in his hand.

"I didn't get the chance to say it… but I'm sorry about what happened to Renée," she told him.

She knew there was something between Gene and Renée. He had liked her. And from what Claire saw, Renée liked him too. That much was clear to see, and if things had worked out differently, maybe there would've been something. He deserved to be happy. She wanted him to be happy, and maybe he could've found it with Renée. But the world was cruel and unfair.

Renée had been a good friend, but at this point, Claire was numb to the pain that comes from loss. Most soldiers were. Friends who become like family die but they still have to keep moving. There's no time to mourn.

Eugene reached in his own musette bag and pulled out some bandages, morphine, sulfa powder and tablets, and handed them to her.

"Gene…" Claire started but he interrupted her.

"It ain't fair," he told her.

"No, it ain't," she replied.

There was an awkward pause between them. Something was still hanging in the air, Eugene was tense towards her, but she couldn't figure out what it was.

"Gene, are you okay?" She asked.

"Yeah," he said.

Claire bit the inside of her cheek, things were clearly not okay between the two of them, but she didn't want to prod too much.

"I should go, got plenty of catchin' up to do," Claire said. "You and Spina come to my foxhole in the mornin' like before I left."

"Yes, ma'am," he replied. The way he said it made Claire stiffen. She brushed it off and then crawled out of his foxhole. What had she done to piss him off?

She walked back to her own foxhole, the sun had set. She could see the stars peeking through the spaces in the trees. She shivered against the cold frigid air, but she would take that over the church.

Muck and Malarkey were gone when she got back.

"Geez, gonna have to get used to you being back," Luz told her.

"Admit it, you missed me," she prodded jokingly. She remembered the bars of chocolate in her bag and pulled one out and tossed it to him.

"Oh yeah, I really missed you," Luz said as he opened the candy bar.

"Food… the way into any man's heart," she joked.

"Oh, here's your blanket back," he said as he tossed her the extra blanket he had.

"Thanks." She wrapped herself in it huddled close to Luz for body warmth.

Eventually, he fell asleep, but Claire remained awake. The sporadic machine-gun fire kept her wide awake. She sat in the quiet and kept thinking about the last few months. Finding out the truth behind her brother's death, the constant streams of wounded, the church, it was becoming too much. She thought about Alexander Melville, Renée Lemaire, and Patrick Carson. Melville and Renée were dead, crushed, while trying to save patients. Carson was paralyzed, but he, at least, was alive.

 _A life in pain is not living at all._

" _He's lucky to be alive."_ She recalled Nurse Robbins telling her back at the hospital in England

in regards to James MacArthur.

 _Lucky? My God, he's better off dead._

She didn't believe that anymore. It was stupid for her to think it in the first place.

 _I hope when you die, it's quick._

Part of Claire wished it had been her instead of them. Why did she keep getting to live while good people who had friends, homes, families were dying?

 _It should've been me._

Claire was unable to keep her tears at bay any longer. Quietly, she let them fall, thinking about the friends she lost. She had to write the letter home for Melville since she was the CO. What the hell could she tell his mother that her son was never coming home? That he'd died in a frozen wasteland crushed to death? That he would never laugh, or smile, or feel anything?

 _Don't dwell on it._

She had to push it away. She had to shut that pain down. More gunfire erupted.

"Don't you wish they'd just shut up?" Luz stated. Claire jumped in surprise.

"How long you been awake?" She asked as she wiped her eyes.

"Not long," he assured, though she knew he was lying. "You miss having a roof over your head and sleeping in a bed back in Bastogne yet?"

"I slept on the cold wet ground," Claire countered. "I didn't need a cot, not when there were men coming in with their chests blown out."

"How bad was it back there?" Luz asked.

She didn't say anything, she simply stared forward. She coughed, the tickle in her throat becoming unbearable. She muffled the cough in her sleeve.

"It wasn't as bad as out here," she finally answered after her coughing fit stopped. She wasn't sure if she was telling the truth anymore.

"No offence, Russ, but you look like shit."

"You sure know how to flatter a girl, don't you Luz?" Claire joked. "Ain't like you're lookin' like Cary Grant either."

"There she is," he smirked.

"I will never take showers for granted ever again," she told him. "Or warmth."

"Well, you know what would make us warmer?" He hinted suggestively with a large smirk on his face.

"Yeah, I'd rather freeze to death," she joked.

"Yeah, that'd be weird," Luz agreed. "Like sleepin' with my sister."

Claire snickered, she'd come to war because she'd lost one brother, but being with Easy, she'd gained about ten more.

"Remember that time you handed my ass to me over and over back at Toccoa?" Claire asked.

"Yeah, I thought that would've been it. That you would've finally let it go," Luz told her. "But you kept getting back up."

"I wasn't raised to be a quitter," she said.

"Yeah, well, I didn't know who you were back then," Luz added. "No one did. The pool, the way we treated you… All we saw was a broad trying to be a man. We got you very wrong."

"I got y'all wrong too," she said. "I thought I was gonna stand completely alone."

"Guess we all underestimated each other," Luz stated.

"I was stupid in Holland. Stupid and reckless," she admitted. "And you saved my life. I never thanked you for that."

"You saved my ass in Normandy, remember?" He recalled the time Claire shot a German soldier in order to save him. "Call it even."

"You don't owe me anything."

"We all do, Russ. You and Doc've saved our asses more times then I care to think about," Luz reminded. "Besides, we're friends, it's what we do."

* * *

It was the day before New Years Eve and Claire finally had a moment to write to Alexander Melville's family. She sat in her foxhole alone. Luz was up at the OP keeping watch of the line with Bull Randleman.

She'd gotten some letter paper from Malarkey. She could've asked any of them, Malarkey just happened to be the first person she came across.

"Writing to a sweetheart?" He asked jokingly. Claire shook her head. The look in her eye must've made him realize it wasn't a good letter because he handed Claire the paper with a grim look on his face.

She took a deep breath and began to write.

' _Dear Mr. and Mrs. Melville,_

 _By now, you would have undoubtedly heard of the tragic passing of your son, Alexander. May I begin this letter by offering my deepest condolences to you and your family, though I know this will do little to lessen the pain you are experiencing._

 _I had the privilege of working closely with your son during the siege of Bastogne. He was a kind and courageous young man. Though the conditions were hard, and we worked around the clock to give care to the wounded, he never lost his smile. He was a bright spot in the darkness surrounding us. I am proud to have gotten the chance to work with and to know him._

 _Your son carried and saved the lives of twelve soldiers during the attack of Bastogne. He did not hesitate for one moment that night. He did his duty and more. Your son was a hero. He gave his life to save others and without him, countless more lives would be lost._

 _I know these words will mean very little, but I thought you would want to know that your son was greatly loved by all who encountered him, and that his death was not meaningless._

 _My deepest sympathies to you and your family in this time of mourning,_

 _First Lieutenant Claire B. Rousseau, 101_ _st_ _Airborne, 506_ _th_ _PIR.'_

She rewrote the letter four times and was still unable to find the words to properly describe Alexander Melville. He was a good man who had a whole life ahead him and it was cut short. He had six siblings, one of which was an older sister named Jo. He deserved better than what he got, but Claire couldn't write that. Instead, she wrote another truth, Alexander Melville was a hero, and he'd died a hero.

That had to be enough.

It had to be.

* * *

 **Hope you all enjoyed it! Thank you to everyone who reviewed last few chapters, it really means a lot to me!**


	17. Dear God

_January_ _2_ _nd_ _1945_

After holding the line, Easy Company was called to push the German's through the woods. Last night, they rang in 1945 with an artillery strike against the krauts. They responded and there were several wounded, including Joe Toye who got hit in the arm by some shrapnel.

Claire rarely slept at night, and the few moments that she did, she had nightmares. It was always the same and it had been for months. She'd be running through the woods in Normandy and then she'd trip over James's body. The one difference now was instead of seeing her brother die, she was brought to Bastogne and the walls would cave in.

Now they were walking through the woods, Claire was grateful to be moving around in the open air and not in a dank, wounded filled church. Moving kept her her warm, though it made her sweat and the sweat would freeze. It was a vicious circle. Claire's cold was also getting worst, though she kept that to herself. She coughed into her sleeve fought through it. The only bright side, her shoulder didn't hurt anymore.

On the walk that day, Brown and Stevenson had been wounded. They were sent to the aid station and then they would be going to the field hospital. It was a relief that the aid station wasn't far from them now and that there were field hospitals and evacuation hospitals.

Things with Eugene were still frosty and she didn't understand why. She figured that he was working through some things and gave him space. At least, that's what she had been doing until they stopped for the night and Claire was digging a foxhole with him. She was with Luz again but was helping Eugene dig his. Hoobler was going from foxhole to foxhole telling people how he'd shot down a German officer and finally got the Luger he'd been talking about since Normandy.

"And he starts riding away so I pull the trigger, once, twice, and then there he goes right on down like a sack of potatoes," Hoobler recounted.

"Good for you, Hoob," she congratulated. "A regular old cowboy. Ain't that right, Doc?"

Eugene wasn't saying anything. He just kept digging.

"You all dug in?" She asked.

"Yeah, just going around, shootin' the shit, you know?" He explained.

"Good job today, Hoob," she said.

"Thanks Russ," he said. "You two good here?"

"Yeah, we're fine," Claire spoke up.

"Okay, well, see you."

Claire and Gene kept digging in silence.

"Did I do somethin' to piss you off?" Claire asked.

"What?"

"Well, you've been actin' like I kicked your dog, or somethin'," she said. Eugene hesitated and then opened his mouth to say something.

Just then, a single shot rang out. Claire dove and tackled Eugene to the ground.

"You okay?" She asked him.

"Yeah. You?"

She nodded frantically. "What the Hell was that?"

"Medic!" She heard Perconte yell. Both Claire and Eugene climbed out of the half-finished foxhole and ran towards the call.

Hoobler was laying on the ground, blood gushing out of his leg. There were at least five people crowding him, trying to keep him warm.

"Move! Out of our way!" She ordered. Hashey and Perconte stepped back, making room for Claire and Gene.

He was wearing so many layers. Hoobler was crying out in pain. She could see where the bullet had gone through his pants. Claire took out the knife and cut through the fabric. There was so much blood.

"Gene, tourniquet!" Claire barked and handed him the belt.

"How's he doin'?" Perconte asked the two.

"Keep him talking," Gene advised.

They were reassuring Hoobler that he was going to be okay while Claire and Eugene set off to work. Claire grabbed her clamps and tried to find the artery to stop the bleeding. He was losing too much blood too fast, and with the cold, it wasn't helping. Claire couldn't see anything, and couldn't even find the bullet.

"Keep him warm," Claire advised. Buck had his jacket wrapped around Hoobler.

 _C'mon, please._

"I can't see a thing," Gene told her. He was trying to clear the blood away so that they could see.

 _Give us this. Please._

The wound was spurting blood.

"It's the artery," she told him quietly Eugene's expression darkened. They had to move fast if they were going to save Hoobler. "We need to get him to an aid station. Hashey, Perconte, get ready, we're moving…"

"Doc," Buck cut her off. Claire ignored him.

"Gene, keep pressure right there," she pointed to Hoobler's upper thigh.

"Lieutenant Rousseau…" Lipton now.

"Now!" She barked.

"Claire," Buck got her attention again.

Claire looked over and saw that Hoobler's eyes were closed.

 _No._

He wasn't breathing anymore.

 _DAMMIT!_

"Perc, get a jeep," Buck ordered. Claire fell back with her eyes wide, her hands covered in blood. Eugene angrily threw the tourniquet down.

Claire and Lip were the one who loaded Hoobler's body onto the jeep. Out of habit, she wrote his name down in her book. Hoobler's blood still stained her hands.

"I'm gonna go inform Captain Winters," he told her once the jeep pulled away. Claire nodded.

"Where's Dike?" She asked.

"I'm not sure ma'am. Why? Did you want to see him?" Lipton asked.

"No, just thought he should know the status of his men," she tried not to sound angry or bitter. "You did a good job, Lip. You can't beat yourself up over it. The bullet hit the main artery. There was nothing we coulda done."

Still didn't make any less angry with herself. She put on her hard exterior and walked back to the foxhole she was digging with Eugene. He was already there, still digging. She picked up her shovel and began chipping away at the frozen ground.

"When I ran into the church that night," Eugene started after a few moments of silence, "and I didn't see you come out… I saw Renée lying there and… I thought you were dead. The last thing you told me was that you weren't gonna be mourned. Why the Hell would you say that?"

"Eugene… I…"

"It ain't true. None of it."

She shook her head.

"I have nothing, Eugene. No one. That's the truth," she told him.

"What about me, huh? Or Luz? Or Captain Nixon? Guarnere? Muck? Malarkey? Toye? Lipton? Captain Winters? What about us? Don't you think for one second that there ain't gonna be someone to mourn you," he ranted.

Claire didn't know how to respond to him.

"You won't just disappear."

She had a difficult time believing it, but it was nice to hear.

"I… you're my friend. I ain't gonna let you."

Claire swallowed the lump growing in her throat, only to have a coughing fit occur. _Opportune timing._

"Claire?" He asked worried.

"I'm fine," she assured as the coughing stopped. His worried gaze still on her.

* * *

Claire had actually managed to get a few hours of sleep that night. It wasn't because she actually wanted to sleep, but she was too exhausted and passed out. Her bones were beginning to hurt from her cold, but she still refused to admit that she was sick to anyone.

Her hair was getting long now. She hadn't cut it since Aldbourne. Now it reached to just above her jawline, which meant she was back to tying the excess hair back.

Dike always seemed to disappear when planning was happening. He would go on these long walks and no one knew where he was.

"Honestly, fuck him," Claire voiced to Buck while they were walking the line together as Claire did her rounds. She'd asked him to come along 'just in case', which he happily obliged. Really, she did it so she could keep an eye on him. She found that giving soldiers small tasks that weren't technically war related helped a little bit when it came to battle-fatigue and lowering morale.

Buck was telling her about the meeting between the platoon officers and Lipton to discuss what the plan was.

"And here I thought Sobel was the worst," she added. "Boy, was I wrong."

"As long as we keep our heads down and do the job right, we'll be okay," Buck assured.

"You can't tell me that you actually believe that," she countered.

"Maybe I don't," he said. "But they need to. Or else, we're screwed."

"FUBAR," she said.

"You got that right."

Fucked Up Beyond All Recognition, the only way she could describe Dike.

He was tense, much more than what he would normally be. Claire had notice the change in him since the hospital, how he would get that thousand-mile stare.

"Buck, are you okay?" She asked him.

"Yeah… Yeah… I'm fine," he answered.

She could feel another cough coming. She covered her mouth using her sleeve and coughed.

"I should be asking you that," he said as he led her to a nearby tree where she leaned and kept coughing.

"You should go to the aid station," Buck told her once the coughing finally subsided.

"I'm fine Buck. I just had something caught in my throat. A lot of men got it worst than me," she reasoned.

He gave a concerned look.

"I promise, if it gets worse, I'll go, but I'm tellin' you I'm fine. I would know, wouldn't I?"

Claire checked in on the soldiers she knew had coughs, small wounds that didn't warrant being taken off the line, and soldiers she thought needed an eye on them.

"Buck, I'm just about done if you wanted to get some sleep. It'll do you some good," she told him. He nodded then headed back to his foxhole.

Claire found her way to Muck and Penkala's foxhole. Muck was the only one there since Penkala was at the OP.

"How's it goin' Muck," she said as she slipped in.

"Oh you know, the usual, enjoying this lovely weather and freezing my ass off," he said.

"Ain't that always the way," she retorted. "Mind if I hang in for a while?"

"Company is always nice."

She sat in the foxhole next to him.

"I've been wondering; why don't you ever call anyone by their nickname?" He asked.

"I called Sisk 'Skinny' when he came in the aid station," she countered.

"That so? So does this mean you're gonna start calling me Skip?"

"Hm… Skip," she said the nickname.

"Whoa… weird."

"Would you rather I called you Warren," she said.

"Not even my mother calls me Warren," Skip countered. "Well, unless she's really angry. My sister Ruth I think forgot that my actual name isn't Skip."

"How old's your sister?" Claire asked.

"She's seventeen now. Fresh out of high school and on her way to college," Skip explained. "How old's your brother?"

Skip didn't know that her brother was dead.

"Where's she going to college?" Claire asked, directing the question away from her. Though it failed miserably.

"Russ, why don't you ever talk about home?" He asked.

"You're just full of questions today, ain't ya?" Claire joked.

"Well, considering we've been friends for what… two years? All I know about you is that you're a nurse from Louisiana, had a boyfriend at some point, and have one brother," he explained.

"You also know I came from a family of fishermen," she offered.

"I've told you about Faye, Ruth, Hell, even about my dad," Skip listed. Claire remembered the conversation, it was one night in Normandy when Claire was sharing a foxhole with him. It just before they were taken off the line. She couldn't remember how it got brought up, but Muck told her that his dad was a travelling musician and left when he was a kid.

"You gotta give me something."

Claire hesitated for a moment before opening her mouth.

"Twenty-six," she said. "Well he would've been."

"Jesus, Russ, I didn't know."

"Not a lot of people do," she assured.

"How did he…?"

She told him everything. Every last detail. She told him about the Arizona, about the deaths of her parents, all of it.

"Jesus," was all he could think to say.

"There's a reason I don't talk about my family, Skip. I don't have one," she explained.

"Shit… I…"

"It's alright Skip. I'm alright," she assured. "Some people just get dealt a shitty hand, that's all."

Skip looked over at her with a look Claire could only describe as certain.

"I think God's got something planned for you," Skip told her. "Something good."

Claire couldn't stop herself from letting out a sardonic laugh. "Uh-huh, sorry Skip, but I don't think God gives a damn about me."

"He does, just you wait," Skip assured.

There was something so familiar, so comforting about Skip Muck. He was a good man. Nice to everyone, even the replacements. He was well-loved in the company. Everyone who met him, liked him immediately.

"You remind me of him, y'know," she realized. "Of my brother… Didn't click until you said that. It's the kind of thing he woulda told me. Even after everything we lost, he wasn't angry with God. I believed because he believed so deeply."

"Sounds like a Hell of a guy," Skip replied.

"He was," she nodded. "He was the best."

She didn't feel the sense of grief over talking about James like she used to. She'd told Bill because she wanted him to know that if he wanted someone to talk to about his brother, that she knew what he was going through. She'd broken down and told Gene after seeing Henry. This was the first time she voluntarily talked about James to someone. She didn't know why she chose Skip, though she thought it might have something to do with his similarity to her brother.

"He drove me crazy sometimes but when it came to it, he was always there," she said. "He was my best friend… When we were kids, I used to follow James and Henry around like a lost little puppy. But then when I got older… I found my own path. James would never admit it, but I think he missed it."

"He did," Skip told her. "Ruth did the same. After she started going to school, suddenly she was too busy to hang around her big brother."

"She still idolizes you," Claire assured. "Little sisters always do. And she knows that you'll always be there when she needs you."

* * *

Later that afternoon, Luz and Penkala were sitting in the foxhole with Claire and Skip. They were talking about pretty much anything when Buck came up and urged them not to do something stupid like put a Luger in your pants pocket. Turns out he didn't get sleep like she'd told him too. He was going from foxhole to foxhole and telling them not to be stupid.

"I'm serious," Buck said after he finished his story.

"We got it," Muck replied.

"Good, George?"

Claire nudged him. "Nothing stupid, Buck," Luz repeated the words.

"Yeah… don't do anything stupid," Penkala voiced.

"Claire?"

"Nothing stupid," she answered. Buck left after that.

"Nothing stupid? Who the Hell's he talking to? We're a bunch of idiots who _volunteered_ to jump out of perfectly good airplanes," Penkala said in a low voice after he left. "Can't get much dumber than that."

"Well, you could volunteer to jump out of a perfectly good airplane with no weapon," Claire countered.

"Huh, maybe you're the biggest idiot out of all of us," Luz joked.

"I swam across the Niagara once," Skip told them.

"You did what?" Claire asked.

"On a bet," Skip continued.

"What, in a barrel?" Luz asked.

"No, George, not the Falls, the river about ten miles up from the falls," Skip explained. "And I'll tell you, that current is _damn_ strong. Musta dragged me about two miles downstream before I got across, but I got across."

"Yep, you win, you're the biggest idiot," Claire teased causing them to laugh.

* * *

The nightmares were persistent. Claire had only had one restful-ish night since coming back to the line, and she'd had even less sleep before. She laid awake in her foxhole after a particular troubling nightmare from Holland. It was always the same, the artillery would hit the ground next to her causing her to fly back. When she would try to get up, she'd look to see that her lower half was blown away like Quinn's was back in Carentan. She'd hear someone yell out her name, either Claire or Russ depending on who it was, and when she'd look up, she'd see someone she cared about be killed in some gruesome way.

Last night, it played out that it was Lew who died. He was shot right through the neck like Albert Blithe and no matter how much she screamed, she couldn't stop him from bleeding out. The scene shifted again and Claire was back in the aid station in Bastogne. She was lying on one of the cots, her guts hanging out. She saw Renée and Melville, only it wasn't them. Melville had a metal beam sticking out of his chest, and Renée had a missing arm and a large gash across her stomach.

" _Why me?" They asked._

" _I'm sorry."_ Claire kept apologizing to them.

 _I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry._

No matter how many times she said it, the guilt over their deaths didn't seem to lessen. It was because of her that they were down there. It was because of her that they died.

 _Stop. Don't dwell on it._

It was getting harder, but she needed to. She was sick and tired, but she had to be strong. It was her job to be the strong one.

That morning, she crawled out of her foxhole and walked back to the CP. It had been a while since she'd seen Lew or Dick because they weren't with Easy anymore, and after her dream, she felt the need to look in on him.

When she got there, Lew was walking towards the line. He stopped when he saw her.

"Just the girl I was going to see," he said.

"Last time you said that, I got pulled off the line," she countered.

"Actually…"

"Lew," Claire cut him off disbelief.

"Division's decided to pluck one officer who helped hold the line at Bastogne for a thirty-day furlough back to the States. Beat the war drum and all that. Turns out, I've been plucked," Lew explained.

"So were you coming to say goodbye?" Claire asked.

"Nope. I've already seen the States. This thing's lost on me," he said.

"Who's second in line?" Claire questioned.

"That, my friend, is you," he told her. Claire did a double take.

"Wait what? They want _me_ to beat the war bond drum when I'm not supposed to exist?" Claire asked.

Lew shrugged. He knew just as she did that no one was supposed to know about her. "I guess they'll figure out some way to spin it… So, you gonna take it?"

"Fat chance," she replied.

"Thought you might say that, still had to tell you. Which means that third in line is Peacock," Lew stated.

Claire grinned. Peacock was one of the more useless officers. He tried hard, but he wasn't a good leader. To quote Luz: he couldn't find a snowball in a blizzard.

"If only it was Dike," Claire grumbled.

"Well, they had to pick someone competent to go back," Lew countered causing Claire to laugh. She knew she probably shouldn't since Dike was still her CO, but it was less bad if she expressed her opinions only to another officer. She would never talk badly about Dike to the enlisted men, just as she never did with Sobel. Not until _after_ he was reassigned.

"Are you doing okay? You look tired."

"I'm in a foxhole freezing my ass off, and machine-gun fire keeps me awake pretty much all hours of the day, besides that, I'm peachy," she told him. "But… I'm alive. You're alive, and so are they."

"What brings you back this way?" Lew asked her.

"Morning walk," she shrugged. "Needed to stretch my legs. Plus, I figured I should probably check in on you, make sure you're doin'..."

Another coughing fit came along. She started hacking in her sleeve.

She spat out some mucus when she finished. Claire took another sip of her canteen.

"How long's that been going on?" Lew asked concerned.

"It's nothing," she assured.

"Uh-huh," he said disbelieving.

"I'm not comin' off. Not now. I'm fine." She'd said it so many times already.

"If you say so," he said not believing her.

"You're worried about me, that's adorable."

"Yeah, well… shut up," Lew said. Claire laughed. "C'mon and get some hot coffee while I give Dick the good news."

"Cup of hot coffee sounds amazin' about now."

Claire followed Lew back to Division CP. Dick, of course, was already awake and shaving. He shaved every day, sometimes twice. She remembered Colonel Sink would remind the officers of how important it was to look clean. Lew, of course, ignored that rule. He shaved every couple of days.

"'Mornin'," Lew greeted cheerfully. Dick turned to both of them.

"Claire, what're you doing back here?"

"Heard there was coffee," she shrugged. Dick pointed over to the burner.

"I knew there was a reason I liked you," she joked. "Lew's here with some good news."

Claire had her mess kit in her musette bag, which of course she carried everywhere. Claire took out her bowl and made herself some coffee.

"Good news? Eviction notice?" Dick questioned, hopeful.

She warmed herself by the small flame and let the coffee boil.

"Not quite." Lew went on to explain how he'd been plucked to go on a thirty-day furlough back to the states, but that he wasn't going.

"Who's next in line?" Dick asked.

"Me," Claire answered. "But there's no way I'm goin'."

"Next up is Peacock," Lew informed with a small smirk on his face.

Dick had a small smile on the corners of his mouth.

Her coffee was boiled and Claire savoured every bit of it. There was no milk and sugar but Claire didn't care. It was one of the best tasting things in the world. It soothed her scratching throat and started warming her belly.

"So, who's gonna deliver the good news?" Claire asked.

That afternoon, Lieutenant Peacock was getting ready to leave. Most of the men were 'congratulating' him, thought they were more excited that he would be out of their hair. Claire stood off to the side after she'd congratulated him. She'd never gotten along with Lieutenant Peacock. They tended to stay out of each other's way. Peacock, however, was none the wiser that the men were actually celebrating the fact that he would no longer be their problem.

"Three cheers for Lieutenant Peacock," Bull said.

"Hip hip hooray. Hip hip hooray. Hip hip hooray," they said it in a low voice and then that was it. Peacock was gone.

Claire noticed all the new faces that had arrived over the last few days. She hadn't talked or interacted with most of them yet. They weren't on her list of cases to watch out for since they'd just gotten on the line. None of them seemed to realize who exactly she was until she would speak. With her helmet, her uniform, she looked like any soldier.

Claire stood off to the side by Luz. She waited for the enlisted men to get their food before she could get hers.

Joe Toye had made a return from the aid station. Any time she gave the boys hell for leaving the aid station or not getting treatment, they'd remind her about how she went AWOL. _'Took a page from your book, Russ.'_ That was their response.

From what she could hear, a replacement, Webb as Muck introduced him, asked if many of them had been injured. Martin corrected him in saying the correct term was wounded.

"There's enough crap laying around here that you're bound to get dinged sooner or later," Skip explained. "Pretty much everyone here's been hit at least once."

Claire looked around at the men sitting around her. She'd lost count of how many times she and Eugene had to patch them up.

"Except for Alley, he's a two-timer. He landed on broken glass in Normandy and got hit by a potato masher in Holland," Skip explained as he and Webb walked by Alley. Alley looked over at her briefly and gave a nod. She remembered carrying him and then patching him up.

He pointed to Randleman. "Bull got a piece of exploding tank in Holland. And George Luz here has never been hit, you're one lucky bastard."

"Takes one to know one, Skip."

She could probably count on one hand who of the original Toccoa men had not been hit. Skip, Luz, Lew, and Martin had never been hit. Apparently, on the same day that Claire got hit, Lew got a bullet that entered the front of his helmet and then out the side, leaving only a black mark.

"Consider us blessed," Skip replied. "Now Liebgott, that skinny little guy, he got pinked in the neck in Holland. Popeye, he got shot in his scrawny little butt in Normandy."

"And Buck got shot in his rather large butt in Holland," Malarkey added. Buck pointed jokingly to where the bullet hit him.

She could still remember going to visit him in the hospital, seeing the shadow of a man he was trying to be again.

"First Sergeant Lipton over there caught a couple of pieces of a tank shell burst in Carentan. One chunk in his face, the other chunk almost took out his nuts," Skip continued.

The line was dying down and Claire left her spot in and went in line to get some, most likely cold, food.

"Russ over there's been hit, what, two… three times?" Skip questioned as she walked by.

"One and a half… barely," she retorted over her shoulder before getting in line.

"She got hit in the arm in Normandy, got a piece of shrapnel in the face at Carentan, got shot in the shoulder, and shrapnel in the leg from a mortar in Holland," Skip continued explaining. The only one who knew about her being caught in the church when it got hit was Eugene.

"Like I said, the first two were barely anything," she stated.

"That's a woman," Webb pointed out in disbelief. There was a brief moment of tense silence, before Claire broke it in the only way she could, by making a joke.

"I am?" Claire replied sarcastically. "Well, holy shit, that's news to me. I was wonderin' why I couldn't piss standin' up."

There was a laugh among the men. Making light of the situation was the only way to make it work. Webb looked caught off guard by Claire's vulgar comment.

"You learn quick, Webb, as long as you don't have a problem with Russ, we don't have problem with you," Malarkey spoke.

"And, after a while, you tend to forget she's a girl," Penkala assured.

"Don't I know it," Claire added. On plenty of occasions she saw their nether regions exposed because they would whip it out to take a piss.

"And if you've got a problem, you're gonna have us to deal with," Joe promised.

"I wouldn't worry too much, sweetheart," Claire assured. "Ain't gonna be them you gotta deal with… it's me."

Webb looked back at her as Babe gave her some food as though he was sizing her up. She didn't look all that intimidating, but the way the men looked at her, the way they talked about 'Russ', the stories he heard… he wondered how many of them were true. He could see it in her eyes, they were hardened, tough like all the veterans he'd seen. He knew the fury of a woman on a regular day, he'd hate to see it coming from someone like her.

* * *

 **I hope you like it. This chapter is a bit lighter in comparison to what's coming. Let me know what you thought!**


	18. Breaking Point

That afternoon, Claire and the rest of Easy Company went back to their old position overlooking Foy. Perconte, Webb, and Christenson remained in the rear attached to D Company to hold the main line of resistance. As they walked by, the men made jokes, warning about Speirs. Claire rolled her eyes. She knew the rumors about Ronald Speirs and while he was intimidating, she thought they were very much exaggerated.

Webb looked at them confused and alarmed.

"Careful where you step, Webb, area's full of bullshit," Claire warned as she passed by the foxhole.

A few hours later, they returned to their spot overlooking Foy. No one was happy to be back here, though Claire was content to simply stop marching. Her feet were sore and cold. She was doing everything she could to prevent trench foot, but the lack winter shoe packs and socks was proving to be difficult. When they first got to Bastogne, Claire had two extra pairs. She'd lost one when the aid station collapsed. She was currently drying a pair around her neck.

Malarkey had a pretty genius plan. They were given burlap sacks to cover their boots. Malarkey put water on his so they would freeze and keep the heat trapped inside. Claire was tempted to try it, though knowing her luck, the sacks would make it hard to move around and she'd slip.

Claire hopped into her old foxhole and landed in a large pile of human feces. The excrement stained her pants.

"Jesus Christ!" She cursed.

Looking around at the tree bursts, Claire realized why the foxholes were full of shit. First Battalion, who'd been holding this position before, didn't want to get out of their holes because they were getting shelled. Bit of shit wasn't so bad in comparison.

"What the fuck?" Luz complained as he got in their foxhole. "Those First Battalion assholes shit in our foxhole."

"Least it's frozen… don't smell that way," she shrugged. "We should reinforce these. Add some cover."

Claire and Luz set off to work at adding more cover to their foxholes. Once she was done, Claire went to check on Eugene. Claire did rounds yesterday which meant it was his turn tonight. Every time they did a switch off, they would give each other the list of names of soldiers to watch over. He was sharing a foxhole with Babe. Eugene, however, wasn't there when she got there.

"Hey, Babe, you seen Doc?" Claire asked.

"Did you just call me Babe?" He replied sounding surprised.

"Yeah, I did," she shrugged it off. Her reasoning for not calling the men by their nicknames was to put some distance between her and them, but that was ridiculous now. Skip somewhat pointed that out. They were her friends. There was no keeping distance from them. "Have you seen Doc?"

"He was here not long ago. Liebgott came running. Apparently, one of the replacements cut himself while he was chopping branches," Babe explained.

Claire saw his right hand was massaging the other. She'd seen him do this a few times, but she never concerned herself. Now, however, with the painful expression in his eyes, she knew it was something.

"Babe, squeeze your hands for me," she requested.

"Doc…"

"That's an order," she told him. Babe squeezed his right hand effortlessly. "Okay, now the left."

Babe bit his lip as he tried to move the hand. "I can't…" he admitted.

"How long has this been happening?" Claire asked.

"Since I was a kid," he answered. "It doesn't happen all the time."

"Babe… you know this'll take you off the line," she informed him.

"No… Lieutenant, really, it ain't that bad," he frantically told her.

"If you can't move your hand, how can you shoot?" Claire asked him shortly.

"I've made it this far. I can't go back… not when the guys still need me," Babe replied. "It wears off then I'm right was rain again. Please, Russ, don't say anything."

Claire pondered over it. She knew she should tell Winters; Babe should be taken off the line. But the thing she'd learnt about her boys, none of them would abandon the company unless they were wounded or dead.

"If it gets worse, or if I think that you're puttin' yourself and the other men in danger, I will take you out of here myself, Heffron," she warned. "I will be checking on you every day. I'm putting my ass on the line for you. Don't screw it up."

"Yes ma'am. Thank you, ma'am," he said while nodding frantically.

Claire walked away, shaking her head. Idiot. She was an idiot. But if he said he could do it, Claire would believe him until proven otherwise. She hoped that she wouldn't eat her words. They needed men, more importantly, they needed experienced men.

She was heading towards Liebgott's hole in hopes of finding Eugene.

"Incoming!" Lip's voice echoed through the woods.

Claire heard the whistle of the artillery. It hit the ground behind her. Her heart started pounding in her chest.

"Find some cover!"

Claire started sprinting as more shells hit the earth around her.

Go. Go. Go!

She jumped into the first foxhole she found, landing on top of someone. It was Bull. Claire ducked down and covered her head. More shells hit the ground around them, dirt and ice rained on them.

The loud bangs of the shells exploding on the ground, she was reminded of that first Mardi Gras in New Orleans. She could remember being too short to see clearly so her father held her so she could look down at the parade. The masks, the colours, she could hear the music. She remembered the fireworks, and how the loud booms terrified her. Claire cried and her father pulled her close to his chest.

" _It's alright, ma chérie,"_ He told her. _"It's noise, that's all. They can't hurt you, not while I'm around. I'll always protect you."_

And then he started humming _My Blue Heaven_ , his favourite. Claire could remember feeling safe, like nothing bad could happen to her.

 _Boom!_

Claire started humming the familiar tune, trying to feel that way again. But this time, it wasn't bursts of colour in the sky. These things could hurt her. _Daddy, I'm scared._ Bull had one arm around her as they huddled together.

The shelling stopped. They sat up. Claire could hear the calls for a medic. She went to crawl out of the hole when Bull pulled her back down.

"The Hell are you doin'?" Bull snapped.

"There are wounded men out there!" She retorted.

"They want you to go out, then they shell your ass," Bull told her.

She tried to move but he was holding her down.

"You're no good to anyone dead," he added.

The shelling started up again, blowing both of them back. They huddled together as the ground and the trees exploded.

 _Okay. He was right._ She thought about the guys that were still caught out there and prayed they were okay.

She kept humming, praying for it all to stop. It felt like forever before the shells stopped. She looked behind her at Bull.

"Is it over now?" Claire asked.

"MEDIC!" The voice was broken and she knew exactly who it was. She got out of the hole and sprinted towards the call. _Back to business._

When Claire made it, she stopped and took a sharp breath at the scene in front of her. Joe Toye and Bill were lying on the ground, a pool blood staining the snow. Bill's leg was mangled to the point where it was barely hanging on. Joe's leg was blown off completely, leaving nothing but a twisted, destroyed stump.

 _Oh God…_

Bill groaned in pain, pulling Claire out of her shock. She went to work. She first checked Joe's pulse. Joe's eyes opened. His frantic brown eyes were looking up at her.

"My helmet… I gotta get my helmet," he stated.

"It's okay Joe. You're okay," she assured. She got out the morphine and injected one syrette in Joe's arm and another in Bill's. She heard two people coming up from behind her.

She looked up to see that it was Eugene and Luz. Claire looked straight and saw Buck standing there, his helmet on the ground and he ruffled through his hair. His gaze did not break away from Joe and Bill. His eyes… he was broken. Claire had seen it on so many soldiers back at the aid station in Bastogne.

"Luz," she called to her friend. He was looking in horror at the sight. "Luz!" He looked at her now. "Can you go sit Buck down over there? Give him a once over then call a jeep."

She pointed over to a fallen log away from them. Luz nodded and went over.

"Gene, take over for Joe," she ordered. He nodded.

Claire went over to Bill. She hadn't been able to get a proper look at his wound.

"Alright, Bill, I'm gonna drag you over there to give us a bit more room. It might hurt a bit," she warned.

"Yes ma'am," he replied.

Claire nodded and then lifted him under his armpits and dragged him over to the tree. Bill cried out in pain, Claire apologized as she leaned him up against the tree.

"The morphine should start kickin' in."

Her eyes went down to the wound on his leg. His marble coloured bone was exposed to the cold. The skin and muscle was twitching, moving around like Jell-O. The nerves were in overdrive. All Claire could do out here was pour some sulfa powder on it to keep it from getting infected.

"Guess this is it, Russ," Bill told her.

"Don't be stupid, Bill," she replied. She couldn't let what she was seeing affect her. "Gene, how're you doin' there?"

"Doin' fine. Should be a jeep comin'," he informed her.

"Hear that? Jeep's comin'," she told Bill.

Bill inhaled sharply, trying to keep down the painful cry.

"You look after 'em, okay?" Bill requested. Claire didn't need to ask to know what he meant.

"I always do."

"And look after you too," he said. "They need you, Russ."

"I promise," she said as she swallowed back the tears. She frowned. "I'm sorry, Bill."

"Ain't on you," he told her. Claire heard the jeep pull up.

"Over here!" Claire beckoned them over.

There were two stretcher carriers. Joe's wound, while equally as bad could be managed a little bit longer on the field because the leg was severed off completely.

"Take this man," she ordered.

Bill was looking past her. Claire looked back to see Lipton standing there. Malarkey was helping Eugene by holding Joe up and keeping him talking.

"Hey Lip, they got ol' Guarnere this time," he said.

The stretcher came over. Claire stepped back and let the carriers do their job.

"You're gonna be ok, Bill," she assured.

"We've got you soldier," the carrier comforted.

Bill cried out in pain as he was moved onto the stretcher. He lay down and the carriers lifted the stretcher up.

"Hey Joe, I told you I'd beat you back to the States," Bill joked as he was carried past him.

Once he was gone, Claire saw Luz come back.

"Luz, how's Buck?" Claire asked. Again he was staring down at his wounded friend. "Luz!'

"He's… he's fine," Luz said. "Maybe one of you should go talk to him?" He looked between her and Lip. She looked over and saw Eugene was taking care of Joe perfectly on his own.

"Yeah. I got this, Lip," Claire told him.

Claire walked over to the log where Buck was sitting. She crouched in front of him.

"Buck?" She tried to get his attention. He kept staring ahead, tears falling from his eyes. Claire took him by the hand. "Buck?"

He looked down at her and broke down. She got up and sat on the log next to him, pulling him into her arms as he cried into her chest.

"Shh, it's okay Buck. It's okay," she comforted.

"I can't… I can't…" He reminded her of a small vulnerable child.

"Hey, it's okay," she said. "It's okay. We're gonna get you out of here."

She remembered Buck from before, how cocky and full of life he was. She couldn't see him now. All she saw was someone who was shattered. He'd taken everything the Krauts threw at him and more, he was awarded the Silver Star for his part at Brécourt Manor. He was wounded twice and still kept going, but seeing his friends all torn up was the breaking point for him. No one ever thought any less of him.

"C'mon, we're gonna get you out," she told him. "There's no shame in this. It's okay."

Buck finally composed himself long enough for Claire to leave him and get Luz to radio a jeep.

"How is he?" Lip asked.

"I'm writing it off as a bad case of trench foot," she answered. She knew that a lot of men were shamed for having battle-fatigue, and Claire didn't want that for her friend. She knew that he, along with pretty much everyone else, had cases of trench foot. "He needs to be off the line. He needs time."

Lip nodded.

"Joe got evacuated?" She asked.

"Yeah," Lip answered.

"Where's Doc?" She asked not seeing Eugene anywhere.

"There were some more wounded. He went to help," Lip explained.

Claire nodded. "Have you seen Lieutenant Dike?"

"He went to the CP, ma'am," Lip informed her. Claire scoffed.

"Of course he did," she muttered bitterly under her breath. She was angry. "If he decides to come back anytime soon, tell him to come find me."

"Yes, ma'am."

Claire walked back out after that. She found Gene, he was carrying wounded to an area from which it would be easy to evacuate. They had five KIA. Private Milton was among them. She remembered him from that day back in Mourmelon. From what she could see, he died from a piece of shrapnel to the chest that pierced his heart. It was fast. He wouldn't have felt anything. They had about ten or so wounded. Claire was helping bandage them up as one by one they were carried to an ambulance and evacuated.

When the last wounded soldier was in the back of the ambulance, they came and collected the dead. Claire wrote down all their names in her journal.

Claire couldn't stop thinking about Joe and Bill. Both of them should not have been here. Joe should've been back at the aid station and Bill should've still been in the hospital. Both of them went AWOL to get back to the company. She should've stopped them.

 _Don't dwell on it._

She took a few deep breaths and composed herself.

"Claire?" Eugene's voice pulled her out of her own head, just as it always did. It was something that always brought her back to reality. She would build back up the hard exterior and focus on what mattered.

"Gene," she said.

"Are you okay?" He asked.

"Yeah," she answered. "I'm fine. You?"

"I'm okay," he replied.

"Good. Go on, try to get some rest."

"You should too," he told her.

"Yeah, I know."

* * *

They cleared the woods east of Foy, a few days later, Easy Company cleared the woods west of Foy. Without Buck, there was no alternative to Dike. He did not come find her the day Joe, Bill, and Buck were taken off the line. The benefit to walking through the woods, it didn't give the men much time to talk about what happened. Anyone who did see what happened to Joe and Bill didn't talk about it. It was hard losing both of them in one fell swoop. She'd know both since the very beginning. They were two of the central pieces keeping everyone together.

Claire's cold was steady and continuous but so far it hadn't gotten much worse. She would have coughing fits and her sinuses were clogged, but it was manageable. At least, that's what she kept telling herself.

There was little resistance as they walked through the woods. There was a drop in morale. They'd lost two original Toccoa men and the one officer that could be relied upon to lead men into combat. Claire worked double time now to ensure that there weren't more cases of battle fatigue. When the woods were clear, they returned to their spot overlooking Foy.

"Babe, how're those hands?" Claire asked once they stopped. She saw him massaging them.

"They're doin' okay Russ, just like they were yesterday," he replied. She asked him everyday, and she would continue to ask him until the war was over.

"I'll check on you later," she told him.

"Alright, Ma," he teased.

Claire rolled her eyes with a smirk. "Smartass."

She started walking back towards Luz who was talking to Lipton. It was getting dark. He was walking away from Lip, mimicking what Claire could only assume was Lieutenant Dike's yawn.

"Wiseass," she heard Lip laugh.

Claire went over and walked next to Luz.

"I dunno about you, but I could use some sle-" She was cut off by the sound of an artillery shell hitting the earth.

"Shit!" Luz cursed. Claire and Luz took off running.

Another shell burst close enough behind them that it sent them flying forward. Claire's helmet rolled off her head. Just as she started to pick herself up, another shell knocked them back down.

"LUZ! RUSS!" She could hear Skip's voice yelling over the booms. She went to get back up. She felt dazed by the blast. "STAY DOWN! C'MON!"

"C'MON! LUZ!" Penkala yelled.

Claire started crawling on the ground.

 _Oh God… I'm not gonna make it._

Her heart pounded in her chest as she crawled. She looked over to see Luz crawling along with her. Another blast went off close to them.

"RUSS! LUZ!" Skip yelled.

She locked eyes with him. His brown eyes were filled with terror and horror.

Claire inched forward.

"RU-" Skip was cut off as a blast of fire and dirt engulfed them.

 _NO!_

Claire felt a piece of rock fly up from the foxhole and cut her along the jawline. The dust and dirt cleared. Skip and Penkala were gone. One second there, the next… nothing.

She stared at the empty hole where her friends had just been and felt her heart break.

"Russ!" Luz yelled.

 _Gone. They're just gone._

"Russ!" Luz pulled her.

 _They just vanished. They can't just vanish._

"Russ!" Luz pulled her once again.

 _Move, Claire._

Claire got up as they ran the other way towards Lip's foxhole.

"Luz! Russ!" Lip yelled as he pulled them in his foxhole. Claire landed on the ground between Luz and Lipton.

"Muck and Penkala!" Luz yelled, though the loud explosions made it difficult to hear. "Muck and Penkala got hit!"

She was sandwiched between them. A nearby blast blew the logs that were piled away. Claire yelped as ice and rocks pelted against her. Claire, Luz, and Lip curled up together to shield their faces. She could see the bright lights blasting in the air. She could hardly breathe under the fabric of Luz and Lip's uniforms as they were shielding her.

When the shelling let up, Lip and Luz broke apart and Claire let out a breath, only to suck it right back up as something landed smack in their foxhole. For a split second, Claire waited for the boom, and then the nothing-ness but it never came.

She wanted to vomit. The fear, the grief, the twisted relief knotted her stomach. Her hands were shaking, not looking away from the artillery shell. Luz pulled out his pack of smokes and handed one over to Claire. She took one, grabbed her lighter and put it up to her lips. She lit the smoke only to have it taken out of her mouth almost immediately. She looked over to see Lip putting the cigarette to his lips.

"I thought you didn't smoke," Claire said.

"I don't…" was his reply.

Luz handed her the smoke from his mouth and pulled himself out another one. Claire hadn't had a cigarette since she started feeling sick, but this was definitely cause to smoke.

* * *

When the shelling cleared, Claire ran back over to Skip and Penkala's foxhole. Part of her hoped that she'd been wrong.

She got to the hole and went inside. There was nothing but dirt. _No. No. No._ She frantically started digging. Her fingernails tore off in the cold ground but she couldn't stop. She had to find them. To find anything. They can't just be gone.

 _I think God's got something planned for you… something good._

 _Sorry, Skip, but I don't think God gives a damn about me._

She stopped when she found what she was looking for. She fell to the ground, unable to catch her breath.

It was an arm. A twisted, mangled, bloodied arm. The arm was still in the cloth and she could see the three chevrons sewn onto the torn jacket.

 _Skip. No. God… please no._

She couldn't breathe. Her hands began to shake. Claire's stomach tightened and she got out foxhole and wretched the meagre contents of her stomach in the snow. She then started coughing uncontrollably. She was on all fours trying to catch her breath. She had tears in her eyes.

"Lieutenant Rousseau?"

She swallowed back the tears and wiped them from eyes.

 _Be strong. Don't dwell on it._

Claire looked up to see Lip standing there. She wiped her mouth and tried to look presentable.

"Lipton, how many wounded?" Claire asked shutting herself off. Or at least, doing the best she could.

"Um… about five guys," Lip answered.

"Okay," she nodded. She turned on her business voice. "Have Mortuary Affairs come and gather what's in the hole. Has anyone told Malarkey?"

Lip nodded. "Doc did. Lieutenant Rousseau… are you alright?"

"Keep the men away from the hole," she instructed. "They shouldn't see it."

"Yes ma'am," he nodded.

Claire walked away from the foxhole, doing her best to keep herself together. She had to do her job. That's what she told O'Connor after Melville and Renée died. She could mourn later.

* * *

Lipton watched as Lieutenant Rousseau walked back towards the rest of the men. What he saw… the person he saw, it wasn't the woman he knew. Lip knew that Lieutenant Rousseau and Skip were friends. Skip from the very beginning was one of the few to actually be nice to her. Lip remembered how the guys would sometimes hassle him about it. He didn't put money in the pool. He and Doc were the only ones. Even Lip put in a buck, not believing that she could do it.

On the night they got their wings, Skip had the biggest smug expression on his face. _I told you she could do it._

She gave the money back, much to the surprise of everyone, and she turned out to be one of the best. Having her around, it was like having their kid sister around. They loved her. They respected her. She was their girl.

Lip was worried about her, and he couldn't be. It was only a matter of time before the inevitable assault on Foy.

He looked back into the hole and saw the arm. Lip saw a glint of silver in the dirt. He bent over and picked up a piece of Muck's rosary. He frowned and stuck it in his pocket. He walked back. He saw Lieutenant Rousseau at work patching up Hashey. He could see the blood from her torn fingernails staining her fingers. Her eyes were red from crying and had the same dark circles as the others did.

Doc Roe was patching up another Private nearby.

"Doc," Lip beckoned him over.

Doc Roe was Lieutenant Rousseau's best friend, though sometimes, Lip wondered if it was something more. He knew they knew nothing could ever happen because of the non-fraternizing policy. Still, he noticed how the two of them always seemed to search for the other when they weren't around. He would see them smile brighter when they were together and laugh. When Lieutenant Rousseau was gone, after she was wounded in Holland and called away to Bastogne, Doc went back to his quiet self. Lip didn't think they could see it themselves, but he could, and so could most of the other men.

"Sergeant," Doc greeted as he came up. "What is it?"

"How's she doing over there?" Lip asked.

"She's fine Lip," Doc assured. "Why?"

"I found her by Muck and Penkala's hole," he explained.

"Oh." He knew what Lip was getting at.

"Do me a favour, keep an eye on her?" Lip requested.

"I always do."

* * *

" _RU-"_ And then… nothing.

Claire sat in her foxhole after the wounded were evacuated and the dead were taken away. Eugene stitched up the deep cut on her jawline. _Just another scar._ Luz was with Bull out at the OP, leaving Claire alone. She hadn't gone to eat with the men, knowing that she wouldn't be able to keep anything down.

She kept thinking about the arm, how that was the only thing left of her friend. Her heart felt empty, like she'd lost a brother again. Claire took out the journal and wrote:

' _January 9_ _th_ _1945_

 _Skip Muck died.'_

That was it. No other words. She couldn't write it all out, she didn't want to relive that moment ever again, but she didn't think she would ever forget it either. Skip Muck was her friend and he'd died. Alex Penkala was her friend too. He'd helped save her life in Holland. The shell that hit the foxhole Claire was in with Lipton and Luz was a dud. The one that hit Skip and Penkala wasn't. It was the way it went and she just had to accept it.

 _This fucking war._

"Found ya." Claire looked up to see Eugene peering in. He came in and sat next to her in the foxhole. Claire put her journal back in her pocket.

She put on her 'everything-is-okay' face. "Hey Gene, is there somethin' I can do for you?"

"Nah, just thought I'd check in, see how you're…"

"I'm fine Eugene," she interrupted.

"I know," he replied. "How's the cut?"

She touched her jawline. "Fine."

"Mind if I pray?" He asked.

"Go ahead," she replied nonchalantly.

Eugene pulled something out of his pocket. It was the rope he used to pray. She knew he did this. He prayed silently every night. Tonight, however, it was different.

"Oh Lord," he said out loud. "grant that I shall never seek so much to be consoled as to console."

Claire's throat tightened. She tried to fight back tears in her eyes. She knew it. It was St. Francis' prayer. Eugene reached over and took her hand.

"To be understood as to understand…"

 _I think God's got something planned for you. Something good._

How could he have believed that? Why should she have something good when someone as kind as Skip get nothing but death? Skip was going to get married. He was going to make something of his life. He was a good, honest man. How could God be so cruel?

She couldn't swallow the lump in her throat. Her heart felt like it was breaking all over again.

"…or to be loved as to love with all my heart."

It was too much. She couldn't bear the grief anymore as it came pouring out. She broke into tears, her shoulders shaking.

Eugene wrapped his arm around her and pulled her in. She leaned on his shoulder and quietly sobbed.

"It's okay," he soothed.

"They're dead," she sobbed. "They were there and then… nothing. It ain't fair."

"No it ain't."

"I'm not okay," she admitted.

"I've got you," he told her as he pulled her closer. She kept crying. "I've got you."

* * *

 **Lots of emotion in this chapter. The last few scene I think is one of the few I didn't change in my rewrites. Originally I was going to divide the chapter in two but decided it would flow better all together. Besides, who doesn't like an emotional gut punch all in one chapter?**

 **Also, if you're wondering, the thing with Babe's hands came from the memoir he wrote with Bill Guarnere. If you have not read it I highly recommend it. Same with Donald Malarkey's book (his book is the only book that has successfully made me cry).**

 **Please let me know what you thought.**


	19. Foy

Claire woke up the next morning to find herself still leaning on Eugene. She woke up to another coughing fit. She coughed in her sleeve. Her head and lungs were beginning to hurt. She knew her cold was getting worst, but she couldn't stop. Not after what happened to Skip and Penkala. Her men needed her.

She wiped her eyes and crawled out of the foxhole. The sun shined brightly in the sky. It was another day. It felt wrong to have the sun shining so beautifully when Skip would never see another sun rise again. Yesterday, she allowed herself to break. She couldn't do that again. She wasn't okay, but she could pretend she was.

Without thinking, Claire began to walk towards Malarkey's foxhole. Skip was his best friend. She poked her head inside, under the cover. Malarkey was wide awake staring at the familiar rosary in his hand. It was Skip's.

"Hey Malark," she greeted as she slipped in.

"Russ, what're you doing here?" He asked.

"I needed a walk," she shrugged. "Thought I'd check in on you at the same time."

"I'm doing fine," he replied.

"Mhm," she said not believing him.

"You were there, right?" Malarkey asked.

"I was," she confirmed.

"Did he… did he feel anything?"

Claire thought to the foxhole and how Skip just disappeared in a puff of fire and dirt. _One second there, the next…_

"No," she answered. "It was quick… I'm sorry. They were good men, they deserved better than what they got."

What she gave him was the 'officer' speech. She didn't think she could let herself talk to Malarkey as his friend without breaking again. She was ashamed of it.

"Yeah, they did," he agreed.

Later, Claire was walking along the line, avoiding the area where Skip and Penkala's foxhole was. No one went to that side of camp. She checked in on the men, noticing a significant drop in morale. Skip and Penkala's death hit everyone hard. They were two of the most well liked in the company. The world was a darker place without them.

"Claire?"

She turned around to see Dick standing there.

"Dick, what're you doin' here?" She asked.

"Checking in. I heard what happened," he answered. "How are you doing? I know you were friends with Mu –"

"I'm fine," she cut him off with the lie.

"Have you seen Malarkey?"

"Mhm, I was just there."

"How's he?"

"How would you be if you lost your best friends?" Claire retorted.

"Fair enough. I asked him if he wanted to be my runner for a few days, he refused," Dick explained.

"Of course he did, Dick. No one wants to leave their buddies," she shrugged.

"Buck got transferred to a desk job," he told her.

"Good," she replied. "That's all he needs. Just some time away."

"He's leaving this afternoon if you want to go say goodbye," he said. "Might be good to step back for an hour or two."

"Dick, I'm fine," she assured.

"I know you are, but I think it'll do Buck some good to see you," Dick explained. "Bring Malarkey with you."

This wasn't a request and she knew it.

"Sure thing," she replied. She wanted to see Buck and it would be good for Malarkey to get away, even if it was only for an hour.

Claire, Lip, and Malarkey went back to the aid station to see Buck. She knew Malarkey had delivered his mail a few days before, but no one had seen Buck since Joe and Bill lost their legs. He'd broken down in her arms.

Lip had said goodbye first, then Malarkey did it. She watched as he handed Buck a cigarette and Buck saluted him. Then it was Claire's turn.

She didn't know what to say to him. He still looked exhausted, but he didn't look as void of emotion as he did while sitting on that log before breaking down.

"Claire, I… thank you," Buck told her. "That day… thank you for being there."

She shrugged. "It's what I do."

"Yeah, and it's a good thing you do. They need you, now more than ever," he continued. "And you need them too."

She gave a small smile in return. "I'm gonna miss havin' you around, Buck, but I'm glad you're getting off the line. It'll do you some good."

"Claire… the other men, what do they think of me now?" He asked timidly.

"They love you. Nothing's ever gonna change that."

She saw the corners of his lips twitch. "Look after yourself, okay?"

"I will. Same to you."

Claire held out her hand and Buck shook it. Then, he got in the jeep and drove away. She walked back with Lipton and Malarkey, and they watched as the jeep drove away. She was happy for Buck. At least he got to get away from this. He would be able to let himself heal this way. Claire hoped that she would see him again. Buck was a good leader, and a good friend. Easy Company was bleaker without him. But they had to keep marching on. That was the way it was.

When they got back to the line, it was time for food. Lieutenant Foley informed the three of them that the attack on Foy would occur tomorrow morning. Her eyes met Gene's as she stood off to the side as she always did. His eyes were worried, tired, just as they always were. She gave him a small, reassuring smile, only to have it cut off by a cough. She coughed in her sleeve. The coughing wouldn't stop. Claire walked away from the group of men and desperately tried to stop the hacking.

* * *

Luz, Doc, and Bull watched as Russ walked off into the woods coughing.

"How long's that been goin' on?" Bull asked them.

"Bout a week now," Luz answered. He'd been sharing a foxhole with her. He knew she was sick. "Ever since she got back from Bastogne."

"Shit."

"She'll be fine," Luz assured. No one wanted to see Russ go. Three years ago, Luz would've done just about anything to try and get her off the line. Things were different now. She was closer to him then his own sisters were. He worried about her.

He still thought about Holland. He'd been running when he saw her crawling on the ground. There was so much blood. He'd noticed how morale dropped when she wasn't around. Maybe that was why they worked hard to protect her. Luz knew she could handle herself, they all did, but there was still this innate protective nature they had over her.

"She always is," he added. She's come back from worse. "Ain't that right Doc?"

Doc was still for a moment, hesitating, before he nodded.

 _Shit,_ was all Luz could think to say. His eyes went back to the path Russ walked down.

* * *

Claire rested her hand on a tree not too far from the food, but far enough. The phlegm caught in her throat. She coughed loudly, trying to clear out her throat.

She spat out the phlegm and leaned against the tree. She felt light-headed and stuffed up. Her bones were aching and her lungs felt like they were on fire. Coughing so much made her feel nauseous. She crouched down, trying to get her head back on straight. She breathed in deeply.

"I can do this," she told herself. It was just a cold. She could do this. They were attacking Foy tomorrow and she had to be there.

She pinched the bridge of her nose and took another deep breath.

Claire picked herself up off the ground and walked back towards the food. When she got back, she could feel Gene's worried gaze on her. There were a few other men who were looking her way too. Claire played it off as if she hadn't almost coughed out a lung in the middle of the woods.

She went and got some food from Ramirez and then took a seat adjacent to Gene, Luz and Bull. She ate her food quietly. Though it was now lukewarm, it still felt good on her scratching throat. It was painful to swallow, but she pushed passed it.

Once food was done, Claire went back to her foxhole and got in. She wrapped herself in her blanket and huddled against the wall. She shivered and tried to curl into a ball to get more heat. Of course, it didn't work. Her teeth were chattering as she shivered violently.

Luz came in the foxhole not long after. He sat next to her pulled some of the blanket on him and huddled closer.

"Jesus, Russ, you're boiling," he said.

Claire laughed. "Funny, because I feel like I'm freezing."

Luz gave her a concerned look. He pulled her in closer and she leaned up against him, trying desperately to get warm. She was sweating, the beads froze against her skin.

"Should I go get Doc?" Luz asked.

Claire shook her head. "No. No. I'm okay," she assured. "Get some rest. We're gonna have a long day tomorrow."

* * *

Claire did fall asleep for around an hour total. She spent most of her time shivering. It wouldn't be the first time that she had a sleepless night. Most nights she didn't sleep much. Tomorrow, they would be attacking Foy. Claire had never been this nervous to be going into battle. The last week, it was blow after blow to Easy Company. Now they were going into battle without a leader. Four original Toccoa men were gone, and so was Buck.

She remembered breaking down the night before with Eugene. The weight and the grief she felt was crushing but she needed to be stronger for them. Claire saw the way the men looked to her. It wasn't unnatural for women to be morale boosters in war time. Despite being a soldier, she was still a woman, and that made her something else to them. She remembered that was one of the things General Lee said the Army wanted to test. Could having a woman around improve the morale of the men?

Buck and Bill were right. The men needed her, and she'd be damned if she was going to let a cold take her away from them.

The next morning, Easy Company lined up on the forest line. Dog Company was in reserve and Fox Company would provide covering fire. I Company from 3rd Battalion would be heading around the rear of town. Easy, of course, was going to charge right in.

Claire stocked up her musette bag with supplies. She met up with Eugene and gave him some extra. She knew he was running low.

"I want you to stick around second platoon," she told him. "Find some cover."

"I know."

"And stay safe."

"Always am."

"Okay…"

There was an awkward pause between them.

"I got a letter from Mary," Eugene told her.

Claire's eyes widened in surprise. "Really?"

"Yeah."

"What'd she say?" She asked trying to sound nonchalant.

"She apologized for what happened," he started. "Said she was praying for me."

"Wow…"

"Yeah," Gene said. "She wants to get back together."

Claire's heart tightened. "She does?"

"Mmhmm," Eugene said.

"Guess she realized what she was missin' out on," Claire shrugged. "We gotta go. Attack's about to start."

"Yeah… be safe."

Claire walked away from Gene and towards first platoon.

Mary wrote to Gene. Mary who'd broken his heart because she thought he was going to die in battle. Claire wondered why there was a sudden change of heart. She must've seen what kind of a man Gene was.

* * *

Claire ran out into the field, bullets ripping through the air. She ran next to Liebgott and Babe, somehow ending up next to second platoon. Her heart pounded in her chest as artillery blast pounded the ground around them. She saw Germans firing at them as a man went down.

Mentally, Claire cursed as she ran over to the man that had fallen on the ground, the assault still happening around her. The soldier was Private Robert Grimes from First platoon. He was a replacement that came to them back in Holland. She flipped him over and saw that he was bleeding from a bullet wound to his side.

"MOVE!" She heard someone yell.

"RUSS MOVE!"

Claire wasn't going to leave the man behind. There was a hay bale not far away. She grabbed Private Grimes by the collar and pulled him off to the side. When she got there, she propped him up against the hay and poured sulfa powder on the wound before bandaging him up. She stuck him with morphine and put a red 'M' on his forehead before moving on.

Another artillery blast hit the ground on her left. Claire ran back towards the men, only to find them all still in the open.

"FIND SOME COVER!" She yelled. "GET MOVING!"

She dove behind another hay bale where Dike, Luz, Gene, and some others were parked.

"What the fuck is going on?!" Claire barked at Dike when she landed on the ground next to him. "Why are we standing still?!"

Dike was not responding.

"Give us a plan!" Foley barked.

"Okay. Okay. Foley, take First Platoon around on a flanking mission and attack it from the rear!" Dike ordered.

 _What the fuck?!_

"By themselves?!" Claire snapped.

"We will provide suppressing fire," he tried to reason.

"We're gonna be kind of alone out there!" Foley yelled.

"We will provide suppressing fire!" Dike replied more forcefully. He looked overwhelmed.

 _Fuck._

"You need to talk to Captain Winters, sir," Luz urged as he held out the radio to Dike.

Dike was looking up at the sky, unblinking. He was completely frozen.

"Son of a bitch," she cursed.

She couldn't just stand here and wait. Claire got up, she was going to make a run and join with first platoon, only to be pulled back by someone. She looked to see that it was Lip that pulled her back. He shook his head.

 _Shit._

Claire could hear gun shots firing in the distance. Claire peered around the hay bale to see First Platoon pinned down by a sniper. She was stuck, unable to get to them and help.

 _FUBAR._

"Sir! We are sitting ducks here!" She heard Lip say to Dike.

Claire looked over to see Dike still looking up at the sky, pale, shaking like a child, flinching every time a mortar round hit the ground.

"Lip! He's gone," she told him.

They were screwed. Dike had led them into a slaughter, and now he couldn't give them anything because he shut down. Claire was crouched in the snow next to Eugene. They shouldn't have both medics in one place, but this shit show made it impossible for them to move.

When Claire looked back up, she saw someone running towards them. It was Ronald Speirs. The feeling of relief set in.

"Thank God."

Things moved very quickly after that. Speirs ordered for mortars and grenades to take out the building with the caved in roof. This gave Easy Company the opportunity to move. Claire booked it over towards First Platoon. She went to the first soldier that was down and quickly checked his pulse. It wasn't there. She moved from fallen soldier to fallen soldier. The ones who were still alive, she patched up as best she could.

A machine gun fired above her head. Claire dropped to the ground and started crawling towards a wagon for cover. She peered around the corner and saw as Speirs ran out from behind a wall, into the road that was full of Germans and hopped over a wall. At first, they didn't shoot at him, almost like they couldn't believe what they were seeing. But the most astounding thing was that not even a minute after he hopped the wall, he came all the way back.

After Speirs made his way back, the battle was pretty much over. Claire and Eugene were going around and checking the wounded. Perconte got hit in the butt. There were a few other wounds. Robert Grimes was evacuated.

They'd taken over a hundred German POWs. One of them was wounded. They had to provide care for all wounded soldiers, despite what side they're on. It didn't mean that she wanted to do it. These were the men who killed Skip and Penkala. These were the men who blew off Bill and Joe's legs. The countless wounded at the aid station in Bastogne. Still, it was her job to do it.

Claire went over to the wounded German prisoner. She crouched down in front of one of the prisoners. Her heart softened a little when she saw that it was a boy. He didn't look older than sixteen years old. _Hitler youth._ He had a bullet wound in his leg. He looked at her fearfully as she went to examine the wound. He started fidgeting, trying to get away from her.

"Hey… I'm tryin' to help you," she said harshly. "You get that? _Help?_ "

She went to go and look at the wound again but the kid smacked her hand away. He started speaking to her, she knew whatever he was saying it wasn't pleasant. She needed Liebgott to translate, assure the kid that she wasn't going to hurt him. She got up and started walking.

Liebgott was standing not too far away from a group of singing soldiers that were being filmed by a camera crew. Claire avoided being spotted by the camera. She'd been told a few days ago when the camera crew first arrived that she couldn't be on film since technically, no one was supposed to know that there were women serving with men. It didn't bother her too much since she didn't want to be caught on film anyway. Still, she wondered how they would hide the pictures that had been taken.

"Hey, Lieb," she called out for him.

Liebgott turned around.

"Need your-"

Claire was cut off as a bullet struck her helmet and sent her flying to the ground. She landed hard on her back.

* * *

When the first bullets hit, Eugene ducked and took cover behind a wagon. A few more shots rang out before one of theirs shot. There was a cheer among the men as the sniper was taken out.

"DOC!" He heard Liebgott yell. Eugene ran out from his hiding spot and saw him hunched over someone on the ground.

He could tell who it was by the size of the boot. They were significantly smaller than the rest of the men. _Claire._ Eugene ran over to see there was a bullet hole in the front of her helmet and blood trailing down her face. Her eyes, thankfully were open and darting around.

"Jesus Christ," she swore. He sighed in relief. She was okay.

The call had gathered a couple more people, including Luz, Malarkey, and Lipton.

Gene got down on his knees and took off her helmet. The bullet had barely grazed her head. Eugene pressed a bandage to Claire's head.

"Russ?" It was Luz.

She went to sit up.

"Lie back down," Eugene ordered.

"You gotta be fucking kidding me. Again?!"

She was referring to the fact that this was the fourth time she was hit since they jumped on Normandy.

"Nine Lives, Russ," Luz joked.

"Yeah, no kidding," she grumbled. She picked up her helmet off the ground. "Guess I'm gonna need a new helmet."

"Lucky, it barely touched you," Gene said as he took a closer look at the cut. It needed a few stitches. "This is getting to be a habit… Would you stop doing that?"

He meant almost getting killed.

"I swear, next Kraut that shoots me better pray I'm dead," she snapped.

She was holding the bandage now in her hand, still grumbling angrily. Gene tied it around her head. If he hadn't been so damn terrified at seeing her crumpled on the ground, he would've laughed. She coughed again into her sleeve.

"Liebgott," she said after she stopped coughing. "I need you to come translate for me. Kraut POW's bleeding from his leg and I gotta fix him but he won't let me."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm comin'," Liebgott said as he got up from the ground and then helped her up. Just like that, it was back to business.

Gene, along with Luz, Malarkey, and Lip watched them go.

"She doesn't stop, does she?" Malarkey pointed out.

Eugene had come to realize that Claire couldn't stop. He knew she was having a hard time with things. Especially with Muck's death. Working was the thing that was keeping her from falling apart. That was dangerous. Eugene believed that what made Claire such a good nurse was that she cared deeply about people. She was the one that told him not to dwell on the things he couldn't change, but he knew she said it for her own benefit. She was just as protective over the men as they were over her.

"No, she doesn't," Gene answered. He then went back to work.

"Neither of them do," he heard Lipton add as Gene went back to the men he was fixing up.

* * *

After taking Foy, they all thought they would be pulled off the line and sent to Mourmelon. However, that didn't happen. Two days after the attack on Foy, Easy Company took Noville and after that Rachamps.

Their night in Rachamps was spent in a convent. For most of the men in Easy Company, this was the first time they slept indoors for a month. They filled the pews. Claire sat next to Eugene. The sisters brought in their choir to sing for them. It was beautiful.

The church reminded her of the one she worked in at Bastogne. She had to keep telling herself that she wasn't there. The sound of hymns served as reminders that she was in Rachamps. That she could relax because no one was going to come running in with a soldier whose chest was blown open or with a bullet to the leg.

On top of the five stitches on her hairline, Claire's cough had only gotten worst. She shivered uncontrollably, which was a relief from the sweats. She could no longer deny that she was sick. Eugene had wrapped her in a blanket, but Claire was still frozen. She was stuffed up and her bones ached. She had a bad headache.

"You should go to the aid station," Gene said. "You've got a fever."

"We're gonna head back to Mourmelon in the morning. There's no sense in going now," she explained. "All I need's penicillin and sleep and I'll be right as rain again. You worry too much."

"Claire…"

"I'm okay," she assured. She didn't want to go to an aid station, especially after Bastogne. She sure as hell didn't want to go to a hospital after spending six weeks there. "So… Mary. What're you gonna tell her?"

Eugene looked at her oddly for a second before remembering. "Oh, right, that. I dunno, haven't had time to think."

"You gonna get back together with her?" Claire asked.

"No, don't think I will. I don't think about her like that anymore," he explained.

"Guess she realized a little bit too late, huh?"

"Been a long time since I thought of her," he added. "I was more surprised than anything that she wrote at all."

"I'm glad. You deserve better," she told him. He gave a small smile.

Claire wrapped herself tighter in the blanket and leaned back in the pew and looked at her boys. Since coming to Bastogne, Easy Company had lost a lot of good men. Walter Gordon, Bill Guarnere, and Joe Toye were badly wounded. Hoobler died after accidentally shooting himself in the leg. Among the dead were Kenneth Webb – the nice naïve kid who was curious about the wounded –, Sowosko, Herron, Mellet, Harrold Webb, Albert Milton, Alexander Melville, Alex Penkala, Renée Lemaire, and Skip Muck. In Bastogne, they lost Buck Compton, a great and highly respected officer, and Lieutenant Dike. They gained a good leader in the end. Ronald Speirs was made CO of Easy.

They'd taken hit after hit but very few actually broke. Claire had watched soldiers cry out in agony as she tried to save their lives. She lost some of her best friends. She watched as two got blown up to nothing. Still, knowing that they were leaving Belgium was a great relief. For the first time since this entire war started, Claire thought that maybe, just maybe, she would make it through.

* * *

 **So sorry for the late update! I just moved to a new city and don't have internet yet. (Currently mooching off Starbucks WIFI with my roommate). Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it. At least Bastogne is done and Claire made it through. I can promise you that the next few chapters are a bit lighter. Well, as light as they can be.**

 **Let me know what you thought!**

 **P.S. Thank you to caraxes for pointing out that I accidentally posted chapter 17 twice. Clearly moving and starting school has turned me into a scatterbrain.**


	20. Hagueneau

They didn't go back to Mourmelon. Hitler had launched a counterattack on the Alsace and now they were called upon to hold the line in the town of Hagueneau in France. Claire sat in the back of the truck. She was bundled up in three blankets. Eugene had also leant her his and Luz did the same.

The ride to Haguenau was long and boring. The convoy moved at an almost glacial pace since the roads were frozen. She tried to sleep as much as she could, but whenever she closed her eyes, she saw Skip disappearing into dust, the twisted mangled arm that was left. She saw Renée and Melville's blood running on the ground in the church.

Even with the three blankets, Claire shivered. Her teeth chattered as she tried to get warm again. She wasn't the only one who was sick, Lip caught a pneumonia on the way. Claire's cold had developed into a pneumonia. Luckily for both of them, Claire was given penicillin for her kit. Gene gave them the shots when they stopped for longer than five minutes. Now, what they needed most was rest. However, the nightmares, along with the cramped truck made it practically impossible.

The convoy had finally made it to Haguenau. In comparison to Bastogne, Haguenau was a paradise. They would have roofs over their heads and actual beds. Claire was in and out of dozing when she heard a familiar voice.

"George Luz!"

Claire stirred and saw that it was Private David Webster walking alongside the truck. He'd been wounded in Holland four months ago. His uniform was squeaky clean. Claire had honestly forgotten what their ODs were supposed to look like. She still had month old shit and blood stains on hers.

"My God," she let slip.

"Ah c'mon, I haven't been gone that long," Webster countered.

"Jesus, yes you have," Luz replied.

Webster kept walking up the convoy line.

"Is it bad to say that I completely forgot about him?" Claire voiced to Luz.

"Nah… I forgot about him too."

When the convoy finally stopped, Claire hopped out of the truck. She was about to start walking to First Platoon, where she'd planned on sleeping that night, she and Eugene alternated between all three, when Lew called her over.

"And just where do you think you're going?" He asked.

"First Platoon."

"Yeah, no you're not," he replied. "You are staying at the Company CP, going to be resting up."

"Like hell I…" She was cut off by a harsh coughing fit. She doubled over, trying to catch her breath.

"Sorry, Claire, this isn't a suggestion. Order comes straight from Speirs," Lew told her.

"So why are _you_ telling me?" Claire asked.

"Thought you might take it better coming from me."

Claire groaned in annoyance.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah… makes you feel any better, Lip's on bed rest too," he added. "So at least you'll have some company."

"I hate you."

"No you don't."

She glared at him and grumbled as she started walking towards the building that would serve as the Company CP. A mortar landed on the ground in the street over. Out of reflex, Claire crouched down and covered her head. Once it exploded, she kept on her way. This was nothing in comparison to the shellings they endured in Bastogne.

Claire looked over to see that David Webster dove to the ground. She looked at Malarkey and shook her head. This guy had absolutely no idea.

"What's the matter Webster? Nervous in the service?" Malarkey asked.

"No, I'm fine," he assured awkwardly as he got up off the ground.

"Go talk to Captain Speirs, see if he wants you with second platoon."

"Speirs? What happened to Captain Winters?" Webster asked.

"He's running the whole battalion now," Claire answered as she moved away from Malarkey. "I'm headin' that way, Webster, come along with me."

Malarkey gave her a grateful look. She nodded back. Webster looked like a lost puppy.

"Webster," she urged. He snapped to it and followed her.

The silent walk she'd hoped for was thwarted as Webster began to make conversation. She'd forgotten how much Private David Webster liked to talk.

"So, I heard you went AWOL from the hospital," Webster said as they walked towards the CP.

"Uh-huh," she said dismissively. "Lot of people did."

 _You didn't,_ but she didn't say the words. Her exhaustion was making the bitter thoughts rise up.

"Gotta say, I'm a bit surprised, ma'am," he admitted "I would've thought you of all people would've stayed…" She raised an eyebrow at him wondering where he was going with this, "...being a nurse and all."

"You thought wrong," she answered flatly.

"Where are the rest of the guys?" He asked after a beat. "Heard about Guarnere, Hoob… but this can't be it."

"Well, it is," she snapped. "Word of advice, Webster, don't ask about the guys that ain't here."

Claire started coughing.

"How long you been sick?" He asked.

"Since halfway through Bastogne," she shrugged. They made it to the CP.

Lip was already on the couch when they entered the room of the run down house. Luz was tossing a blanket on top of him.

"Eh, Russ, they said they were sending you here," Luz said when he saw her.

"I can move, ma'am, give you the couch," Lip offered.

"Stay where you are Lip. Or go find a bed. I got the chair," she replied. Claire pulled up one of the chairs.

"Sergeant Lipton, you're sick too?" Webster asked.

"They've got pneumonia," Luz explained as he wrapped another blanket over Claire's shoulders. Now she had four.

"Sorry to hear that."

"Why? They've got blankets, a roof over their head, beds and a comfy couch? Snug as bugs," Luz retorted. "Coffee?" Luz asked her.

"You know me too well," she replied with a smile. Claire bundled herself up in the blankets tighter, the chills starting up again.

"Sergeant Malarkey said I should come check with the CO if I should be in second platoon," Webster spoke up after Lip asked what they could help him with.

"Have a seat, Webster, we'll get you situated." Lip, even when sick he was always a good leader. It wasn't hard to see why he was getting a battlefield commission. Lip, like Dick, was a natural leader and had the respect of the men without question. It was something she always admired and envied about them.

Claire had her feet up on the table. Luz came back and handed her the mug of coffee.

"Find Doc, will ya? Gotta go over some stuff," Claire requested. They said she had to relax, they didn't say she had to stop working.

"Yeah, sure thing."

"Is this the company CP for Easy?" A new voice asked. Claire looked up to see a young man, he looked to be barely twenty, standing there. He was a lieutenant.

"Yes sir," Lip answered sitting up at attention.

"As you were," he said in an arrogant tone. Claire had heard the day before that they were getting a West Point officer. They were being sent to get some combat experience before the war was done. Apparently, these little green babies were going to be in charge during peacetime.

 _Better them then my boys,_ she reminded herself. They deserved to be back home.

"Lieutenant Jones looking for Captain Speirs."

"He should be here soon, Lieutenant" Claire informed him. "Would you like to sit down?"

"No, um… miss, I'll stand," he replied. There was a silence among the men who knew her. Lieutenant West-Point just made a mistake.

"I don't think we've been introduced, I'm _First_ Lieutenant Claire Rousseau," she said it in a pointed way. She held out her hand to shake his. He did so out of courtesy.

Luz was just about to leave the room when Lip asked for a cup of coffee. He offered one to the lieutenant, who declined it.

"What platoon are you in?" The West-pointer asked Webster.

"Well that's what we're about to find out."

Claire went into another coughing fit. She hacked away the mucus in the back of her throat. Jones was staring at her oddly. She knew why. Claire didn't care what some officer thought about her. Out of spite, she coughed and hacked louder.

When Ron entered the CP, Lieutenant West Point stood at attention.

"Captain Speirs, sir, this is Lieutenant Jones," Lip introduced. Ron looked over at them and sighed.

"Listen, for Christ's sake, would you both just go to the back and sack out?" He snapped. "There are some beds back there with fresh sheets."

"I'll get right on that soon as I meet with Doc," Claire replied. "Gotta go over some things."

"I was just trying to be useful, sir," Lip added.

Dick and Lew walked in the CP.

"Listen up," Dick started. "Regiment wants a patrol for prisoners."

"This comes straight from Colonel Sink, so it's not my idea," Lew added.

Son of a bitch, hadn't they done enough in Bastogne? It was bad enough they weren't back in Mourmelon where they should be.

"Since the river's the main line of resistance, we'll need to cross it. There's a three story building on the enemy side on the embankment. You can have fifteen men," Dick explained. "Think long and hard about who you want leading this. You'll need a lead scout, a translator. The rest of the battalion is on covering fire."

"When is this set to go down?" Ron asked.

"Tomorrow night, 0100 hours."

 _You gotta be kidding me._

"And Speirs, I want this one as full proof and as safe as possible. Don't take any chances. We've come too long for that," Dick added. "Want to discuss who might go along?"

Ron, Dick, and Lip were conferring over the mission. Lew came over to her.

"Thought I told you to get some rest," Lew scolded.

"I am. See? Feet up, blanket, coffee, I'm resting," she retorted. She saw Eugene come into the CP. "Doc, over here."

Lew gave her an annoyed look.

"I promise I'll go as soon as I've talked with Doc," she swore.

"Uh-huh, you better."

Eugene came over to meet up with her. Claire got up from her spot and they walked out of the room.

"Alright, what's the situation like out there?" Claire asked.

"I've gone to second and third so far, men are mostly catchin' up on sleep. So far things are good," Eugene informed.

Claire reached into the pocket of her jacket and pulled out the notebook. She tore out the list she'd made of soldiers to watch in case of fatigue.

"Keep an eye on these guys. You know what to look for. If it's startin' to look like they might crack, send 'em to me," she ordered.

"Sure thing. Anything else?"

"I noticed on the ride that Murphy from Third was limping. Check in on him. And Garcia had a cough."

"I got it. Get some rest," he advised.

"That's what they keep telling me."

"Go. I'll give you an update later," Gene promised.

"Thanks Gene," she said. He went the other way towards the back door and Claire walked back to the main room.

Lip was gone. Ron, Lew and Dick were standing there talking about the patrol. When they saw her come back in the room, Ron looked as though he was about to say something.

"I'm going. I'm going," she assured them.

Claire went to the back and found an empty room with a bed. She hadn't slept in a bed in over a month. She stripped off the belt that held most of her supplies and the musette bag she'd been carrying. She even emptied the contents of her pockets in her bag. She didn't take off her jacket because she was still going through a chilly spell. She kept on her boots too, just in case. Then she crawled into bed and laid down.

After a month of sleeping in freezing foxholes, wet floors, and the back of a truck, this was nothing short of heaven. Her muscles, which were tense stiff were beginning to relax. She closed her eyes and fitfully went to sleep.

 _The woods stretched as far as Claire could see. The trees were planted in perfectly straight lines. Even with the eerie fog, Claire knew immediately where she was… The Bois Jacques. She could smell the metallic residue in the air, along with the freezing air hitting her face._

" _MEDIC!"_

 _Claire turned and ran towards the call._

" _MEDIC!"_

 _Another call came from her right._

" _MEDIC!"_

 _Another from behind her._

" _MEDIC!"_

 _There were too many calls. She couldn't get to them._

" _CLAIRE!" A familiar voice yelled out her name._

 _It was coming from her left. She ran towards the sound of her name. It felt like she was moving in molasses. She had to get there. She had to save him._

" _CLAIRE!"_

 _She moved her legs as fast as they would carry her. Behind her, she heard the whistle of an artillery shell coming towards her. The shell hit the ground, propelling her forward. She began to crawl on the ground as she was constantly being knocked down by blast after blast._

 _She saw him sitting in the foxhole, the red cross prominent on his arm. He looked over at her, his brown eyes full of fear._

" _EUGENE!" She yelled at the top of her lungs. He was holding out his hand to her as Claire inched forward._

 _Suddenly, there was a cloud of dirt and snow and Eugene vanished into thin air. Claire looked at the foxhole in shock._

 _No._

 _No._

 _No._

 _Not him._

 _An arm wearing a white band with a red cross landed on the ground in front of her._

" _GENE!" She yelled at the top of her lungs. "GENE! NO!"_

Claire woke up to someone shaking her. She jumped up and felt nauseous. She ran out of bed and to the metal bin and heaved the contents of her stomach. There wasn't much. Claire got up from the ground and wiped her mouth with the sleeve of her jacket. She turned around to see that it was Dick standing there.

"Dick? What're you doing here?" She asked in a hoarse voice.

"I was walking by and I heard you crying," he explained.

"It was just a nightmare," she stated. He still had a concerned look on his face. "Fever dream. It'll blow over. I just need to sleep."

"Okay," he agreed. "Claire… if you need to tal…"

"I'm fine," she cut him off. "I'm just tired."

Dick nodded unconvincingly.

"Get some rest," he said. "And take care of yourself. I don't want to see you working until your better. You're on limited duty until further notice."

She thought it better not to say anything to object. She thought having one protective brother was bad, now she had twenty.

"Yes sir."

He left shortly after that. Claire got back into bed, wrapped herself in the blankets and drifted off to sleep again. Luckily, this time, she didn't dream.

* * *

When Claire woke up again, once again she wasn't alone. Eugene was there. For the first time, Claire wasn't frozen or boiling. She was still exhausted and felt sick, but she wasn't as bad as she had been.

"Shouldn't you be working?" Claire joked.

"I am," he retorted a little too seriously for her liking. "Fever's still there. How's it feel?"

"Better. How long I been out?" She asked.

"Nine hours." She looked at him in shock. "You slept like a rock."

"I guess my brain decided to shut up long enough to let me sleep," Claire shrugged. "How're the men?"

"Fine… they brought in showers," he told her.

Claire lit up instantly. The thought of being clean was a delight.

"Uh-huh, I was just about to wake you up. We got winter shoe packs too."

Claire laughed at this. "Yeah, cause they're so useful now that we're under roofs. Guess that's the U.S. Army for ya."

Eugene smirked. "C'mon, I'll show you where the showers are."

Excited, Claire got out of bed and put her helmet on.

The walk to the showers was short. On the way, Eugene told her where the outposts were so she wouldn't go looking for them later. He knew her a little too well. Eugene explained that they just finished putting them up and Claire was allowed the first one since she had to be alone. There were very few perks to being a woman in a company full of men. This was one of them.

When they got to the showers, Claire was given a fresh uniform and a bar of soap. Hidden in the uniform were fresh undergarments, including a bra that looked a size too big for her.

 _Better than nothing at all._

"Gene, guard the door for me, will ya?" She requested.

Eugene nodded. Claire stepped in the shower tent. She hastily stripped out of her old crusted uniform and turned on the water. Being first meant she had hot water. It felt glorious on her cold skin. She began to scrub all the dirt, grime, and blood off of her. Around her neck, she had her dog tags and the medallion still resting there. It felt as though she was shedding her skin.

The build up of grease and oil in her hair melted away as she used the bar to wash it. Her hair had grown to a point where she could pin it back. Back at the hospital, she'd thought about getting her hair cut again, but she opted not to. She decided she'd let her hair grow. She was tired of maintaining the shorter hair. Maybe she'd change her mind later, but for the moment it was okay. It made her feel like a woman again.

When she finished showering, Claire put on the new undergarments and uniform. She felt fresh and brand new. The hot water did wonders at clearing her sinuses. Claire pinned her hair back and put her helmet back on. She stepped outside and handed the supply officer the dirty uniform.

She coughed, hacking out the phlegm in her throat. She spat out the glob on the ground.

"I can't wait for this thing to be gone," she said.

Eugene opened his mouth to reply when the whistle of an incoming mortar interrupted. They ran and ducked behind a pile of sandbags.

"MEDIC!" Someone yelled out. Both Claire and Eugene took off towards the call.

By the time they got there, it was too late. Bill Kiehn, a Toccoa man, was killed by a pile of rubble. He'd been carrying a sack of potatoes when the blast came. He was a good man. Claire didn't know him all the well, but he was nice. _Another name to add to the list._ A crowd had gathered around _._ Claire looked up and her eyes locked with Ron's. She shook her head, telling him that he was dead. She could see the dejected look in Eugene's face as he took off Kiehn's tag and handed it to Christenson.

"Did you know him well?" She heard Jones's voice ask.

"No," she heard Webster answer. "Not really."

Her jaw tensed.

Claire looked up and saw Christenson and Eugene Jackson standing there.

"Christenson, Jackson, get him out of here, will you?" she asked.

They didn't say anything, they just nodded.

Claire put a comforting hand on Eugene's shoulder. "Hey… let's go," she suggested. He nodded and wordlessly got up.

They walked in silence. Claire hated seeing good men die. She was tired of it. But she was used to it. After Skip, she felt sort of… numb. It wasn't a surprise when people died anymore. It was routine now.

"There was nothing you coulda done," she reminded him. "Nothing either of us coulda done."

"I know."

"You okay?" She asked.

"Yeah, you?"

"Yeah."

They went back to the CP. Lip was up and going. Claire pointed him towards the showers, where he would most likely find Malarkey. Eugene left, he was going to grab a shower too.

"You coulda just stayed at the tent," Claire pointed out.

"Had to make sure you didn't pass out in an alley somewhere," he explained.

"How kind," she replied. "Now go. You stink. Oh, and if you see Heffron, tell him to come see me."

She had to check on his hands. Make sure that they weren't locking. One thing she always was, regardless of being sick, was persistent. She was sticking her neck on the line for him, she sure as hell was going to make sure he could still effectively do his job.

"Sure thing."

Claire went back to her room and grabbed her journal. She couldn't sleep anymore. Claire went back to the main room and sat on the couch. She had the luxury of not being involved in any of the battle decisions, which meant she could actually relax like Lew told her to.

Claire didn't know what the date was anymore. She'd lost count. Her last entry came from the day Skip died. She flipped the pages the the ones she'd dedicated to listing off the dead. She wrote Bill Kiehn's name down. The list seemed endless. She flipped back to the original German pages.

After the attack on Foy when Claire had to treat Hitler Youth, she decided that instead of always running to Liebgott when she needed a translation, she asked him to teach her some words. It didn't mean that she could read the journal, but the longer she looked, the more she could pick up on.

She saw the words: home, help, men, enemy, and friend written a lot. He was just another soldier by the looks of it. Just like they all were.

* * *

 **Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! It truly means the world to me to see what you think of Claire and her story. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Let me know!**


	21. The Last Patrol

The patrol was happening tonight, and Claire was starting to get antsy. She sat at the counter eating stew while Luz took inventory of supplies. She was still on 'bed-rest' technically, which meant she couldn't work, but there was no way she was staying in her room. She had a blanket over her shoulders, doing everything in her power to stay warm.

"Think I could get a chocolate bar?" Claire asked looking longingly at the Hershey's. It was just about that time of month. It skipped in Bastogne because of malnutrition and stress. Now that they were away from that, Claire knew it was bound to come.

"Only because I don't want to face Mr. Hyde again," he said as he handed her a bar. Luz had the unfortunate experience of being on the brunt end of one of her mood swings.

"Wait, you saw _Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde_?" Claire asked.

"Yeah, my buddy and me snuck in when we were kids. One of the first movies I saw," Luz explained. "You saw it?"

She nodded.

"Scared the daylights outta me. My dad took my brother and me," she explained.

"If you tell anyone this, I'll deny it, but I had to sleep with my ma after seeing it," Luz admitted.

Claire bit back a laugh. "My lips are sealed."

"You better. While you're at it, you mind keeping that between us?" He asked pointing to the bar. "Don't want them thinking I'm playing favorites."

She pretended to lock her lips.

Claire coughed into her blanket. Her coughing fits were still as bad as they had been, but they weren't as long. At the sound of footsteps coming towards them, she stuffed the Hershey bar in her pocket. She then took a bite of her stew as Martin and Cobb walked in.

"Hey Russ, looking better," Martin said when he saw her. She knew she still looked like shit, but at least she was clean.

"You're a terrible liar, but awfully kind to say so," she responded.

"You got Hershey bars?" Cobb asked while looking at the box.

"Not enough," Luz countered. Claire stayed silent as she ate her stew.

"C'mon Luz," Martin begged.

"Goddammit Johnny, you're breaking my heart. I'm telling you."

"C'mon George, just give me ten or fifteen bars," Martin added.

Luz reached in one of the boxes and pulled out a pack of gum.

"Juicy Fruit. There, happy?"

Vest came in the room carrying a box of ammo.

"We've got sign of movement," he told Luz. "First Sergeant Lipton wants you to lay a few bazooka rounds in a house across the river."

"You'd think we'd be able to get one Hershey bar," Cobb spoke. "C'mon, Luz, your first platoon at heart."

"Jesus Cobb, there's not enough to go around," Luz repeated. Claire was suddenly very fascinated with the roof of the house.

"Whoa Hershey bar!" Liebgott said as he came into the room with Webster, Martin, and Lieutenant West-Point.

 _Just keep eating your stew and slip out. Don't let on that you have a Hershey bar._ She told herself as she ate the stew.

"Jesus Christ, wait your turn."

"Who are they for?" Liebgott asked.

"Not for you," Luz replied annoyed.

"Oh, c'mon George, one bar."

"No, there's not enough to go around!" Luz finally snapped.

"Captain Speirs here?" Lieutenant West-Point asked.

"He's down by the river, sir," Luz said.

"Hey, big mouth, why don't you give the kid a Hershey bar?" The familiar voice of Frank Perconte entered the room. He'd been at the hospital for a few weeks now after he got shot in the butt in Foy.

"Well, I'll be damned," Martin voiced.

"Shouldn't you be in a hospital, Perco?" Claire spoke up in a light tone. She knew what the answer was going to be. "Or did the nurses get sick of you?"

"Took a page out of your book, Russ."

"Y'all make it sound like I'm the only one that's gone AWOL from the hospital," she joked. She looked over her shoulder to see Lieutenant West-Point staring at her.

"Nah, it's just fun to annoy you," Perconte spoke.

Claire rolled her eyes and coughed in her blanket.

"Like what you did with the place, George."

"Yeah, yeah, did good, didn't I?"

"How're you feelin' Perco?" Claire asked.

"Better than you by the looks of it."

"Pneumonia's a bitch," Luz answered for her. Yep, she still looked like Hell. Claire hacked again, covering her mouth with the blanket. "Here, have a Hershey's." He tossed Perconte a chocolate bar.

"He gets a fucking Hershey bar?" Liebgott questioned.

"Well he got shot in the ass."

Martin walked over and wrapped one of his arms around Perconte's shoulders.

"Try to get this guy out of the fucking war and he comes right back," Martin said.

Claire's eyes darted over to Webster. She could tell the comment was an indirect jab at him. Webster was probably the only Toccoa man who didn't go AWOL from the hospital. He'd missed Bastogne. While they were freezing their asses off and watching their friends die or get wounded, he was sitting in the comfortable hospital twiddling his thumbs. She tried not to be bitter, because soldiers were supposed to heal completely before returning to the line, but it was hard.

"That's not what I hear. Heard the krauts are finished," Perconte added.

"Yeah, well, just to make sure, we gotta row across the river tonight. Grab a few and ask them ourselves," Liebgott said bitterly.

"Seriously?" Perconte questioned.

"Welcome back, Frank," Liebgott said.

"Who's leading the patrol tonight?" Claire asked Liebgott.

"Malarkey."

 _You gotta be fucking kidding me._

Malarkey was in no shape to lead a patrol. He was at the top of her freaking list. She had to talk to Ron.

"Excuse me boys, got some business I gotta attend to," she declared before getting up from her stool and headed out of the room.

Claire walked out of the CP and down towards the river. She was still wearing a blanket and had put on her helmet. She spotted Dick and Ron standing there, planning for the patrol. They heard her coming behind them.

"You're supposed to be in bed," Ron pointed out.

"You're making _Malarkey_ lead the patrol?" She countered. "With all due respect, Ron, that's a mistake."

Both Dick and Ron seemed taken aback by this.

"I know that it isn't my place to tell you how to do your job, but I can give you my medical opinion. Malarkey has lost his five best friends in the span of a few weeks. He has been on the very front line in _every_ campaign. He _needs_ a break," she pressed.

"They all do," Ron retorted.

"Captain Winters," Lieutenant West-Point called from behind her. She groaned mentally.

"Lieutenant Rousseau, go back to bed. You're not on duty," Dick ordered.

"Captain Speirs, Captain Winters, please at least consider what I said?" She pressed.

"It's noted," Ron answered. "Now go. Get some rest, that's an order."

Claire walked away from the men and back to the CP. She was used to going toe-to-toe with authority figures. She'd done it before while she was a surgical nurse before the war. She had a thick skin that did not break easy. More than that, these were her friends, people she trusted and who trusted her. She hoped they would listen to her advice. Malarkey needed a break.

When Claire got in the CP, she saw Babe was there talking with Liebgott, Martin, Cobb, and Perconte. Good, Eugene told him.

"Babe," she beckoned him over. He left the group of men and came over to see her. She led him to the hallway away from the front so no one could see.

"You know, if we're not careful people'll get the wrong idea," Babe voiced.

Claire scoffed. "Please. Now go on."

Babe huffed in annoyance and moved the fingers on his right hand and then his left.

"Any problems?" She asked.

"It happened yesterday, but wore off a few minutes later," he admitted. "First time it happened two weeks."

"Okay… next time it happens, come see me right away," she ordered.

"I keep telling you, ma'am, you don't need to do this."

"No, I do," she replied. "Because the only other alternative is me taking you off the line."

Babe didn't answer. He knew she was right.

"Now go."

He walked back out.

 _Stupid. You're being stupid_. She should've sent Babe off the line when she first discovered his condition. But, she knew that if she did that, he would receive a dishonourable discharge and Babe deserved better.

* * *

Claire did end up going to sleep again. She felt feverish. Gene came by before and gave her another shot of penicillin. He also gave one to Lip. She told him to wake her up before the patrol. Luckily, she didn't have another nightmare. They came and went. She didn't dream at all. She was too tired for it.

Claire woke up to the loud booms and bullets shooting from machine guns. She shot out of bed and put on her helmet and musette bag before running out. Just as she ran out to the main room, McClung came running in.

"Lieutenant Rousseau!" He called out. "Where's Captain Speirs?"

"Upstairs," she answered. "McClung, anyone hurt?"

"Jackson!"

"Where?"

"OP2."

Claire took off running out the door.

OP2 was two streets over. She remembered where Gene had pointed them out. She sprinted, ducking behind sandbags as a few mortars came a little too close for comfort. When that cleared, she kept running.

She got to OP2 and ran in the room full of soldiers. She'd come flying down the steps and broke through the crowd.

"Move! Out of my way!" She ordered.

Eugene had Jackson on the ground and he held him as the young man choked on his own blood.

"I need you to hang on!" Eugene told him, only from what she could see, it was too late. Eugene Jackson took one last choking breath before going limp in Gene's arms.

Eugene looked up and locked his eyes with hers and shook his head.

 _You should've been faster._

Everyone in the room had gone completely silent. Claire looked at Jackson's body, the numbness filling her chest once more. Jackson had been with the company since Holland. He was a good, well-liked kid who was much too young to be lying dead in a dank basement in Haguenau. He'd choked on his own blood, there was nothing that could have been done, not that that lessened the guilt in her chest.

Martin brushed past her and covered the body. He'd been the one to lead the patrol instead of Malarkey. Eugene was still sitting on his knees, his hands covered in Jackson's blood. No matter how hard they tried, they couldn't stop death.

* * *

After the attacks had finally stopped, the litter carriers were able to get Jackson's body out, Claire was walking back to the CP with Eugene. On the way back to the CP, the adrenaline she had wore off and she felt dizzy. Her pneumonia was not getting better. Claire swerved a bit and Eugene took her by the arm. She couldn't stop thinking about how Jackson choked on his own blood. How she should've ran faster. Maybe if she'd been there, things would have been different.

"Nothing you coulda done," Eugene told her. They were alone in the CP. Speirs must've been upstairs, Lip was probably back in bed. He sat her down on the couch. The world was still spinning.

"I know…" she replied. Her head was in her hands and her eyes closed as she tried to make everything stop spinning. "Nothing you coulda done either."

Death had become a constant for them. While losing Jackson hurt, they had grown almost numb to it. The last time she let death affect her, she'd broken down. After Bastogne, she hoped the death would stop, but deep down she knew it wouldn't until this damn war was finished.

"I'm sorry I didn't wake you up," he said. "Captain Winters ordered me not to because you need to rest. Ain't gonna get better if you keep running out in the fire like that."

"Eugene, bein' sick ain't gonna stop me from doing _my damn job_ ," she snapped.

"Yes, it is," he replied. The calm in his voice was all but gone now. "You can't do your damn job if you can barely stand. You might not give a shit about your life, but _I do_!"

"Gene..."

"How often do I gotta say that I care about you, huh? That I'm worried about you?"

"You don't have to be," she replied.

"Yeah, I do. Of course I do. Just take a damn break before you run yourself straight into the ground, and I'm gonna be the one left behind," he ranted.

Claire's head was spinning.

"Eugene…"

He must've seen the look in her eye. Eugene put a hand to her forehead.

"You're burning up," he said alarmingly.

She was feeling nauseous now. The world wouldn't stop spinning.

"Gene… I think I'm gonna…" she felt her throat tighten and her gag reflex started acting up.

Claire took off her helmet and vomited in it. The stew she'd eaten did not taste nearly as good coming up as it did going down. Eugene sat next to her and wrapped one arm around her. The tears stung her eyes.

"I'm sorry," she apologized once she finished throwing up.

"Don't be sorry."

"I'm sorry about Jackson."

"Yeah, I am too."

She rested her head on his shoulder.

"I'm tired," she admitted. Most days, it felt like she had the weight of the world on her shoulders.

"Me too," he replied. She knew he carried it too. "But we're gonna be okay."

"Yeah… we are."

* * *

Unlike the last two days, Claire actually listened to Eugene, Ron, Dick, and Lew. She stayed in bed. Her one compromise was that Eugene updated her on the well-being of the company frequently. She slept as much as she could, pushing through the nightmares that were starting back up after watching Jackson die.

There was another patrol set for tonight, a big mistake. It was stupid to be risking the lives of men when the end was in reach.

"Hey, how're you feeling?" It was Lew who stood at her door looking in on her.

"Better… somewhat. What's this I hear about another patrol happening tonight?" She asked.

"We got two men who talked. Sink's been bragging about it all morning," Lew explained. "He wants another one."

"But he knows Jackson died right? Jackson… he was just a kid."

"Yeah, he knows."

"And he still wants our guys risking their necks?" Claire asked in disbelief.

"Yep."

"Unbelievable. Tell me it's at least a different group."

"Wish I could," he replied.

"What does Dick think of all this?" She asked.

"He's not happy," Lew answered. He paused for a moment. "So, what's this I hear about you running out in the middle of the firefight last night when you're supposed to be on bed rest?"

"Lew, I already got the lecture from Eugene. I don't need it from you too," she replied. "Why d'you think I'm being so damn cooperative today?"

"Well, Doc does give better lectures than I do."

"So this patrol is actually happening, huh?" Claire changed the subject back.

"I'm glad you asked that. I was actually getting to it…"

Lew went on to explain that Dick was refusing to do the patrol, though he didn't say it. Instead, he was going to write a bogus report that the patrol happened but they couldn't get any prisoners. Even better news, they were being taken off the line, finally.

"Thank God," she sighed in relief.

"Move over."

Claire made room for Lew to sit next to her. He took out his flask and drank.

"Why the Hell did you wait so long to tell me?" She asked

"Because I'm a bad bad man."

Claire snorted.

"You're looking better," he told her.

"Feeling better too," she said honestly. She didn't feel dizzy or nauseous anymore. She wasn't too hot or too cold. "I've been sleeping all day."

"I'll get Doc to come check on you later."

"Hey, Lew, what day is it?" She'd lost count in Bastogne and wanted to properly date the journal entries.

"February 22nd," he said.

Claire laughed in disbelief.

"What?" He asked.

"It's my birthday today," she admitted.

"It is?"

"Yeah… I turn twenty-four today," she added. "Didn't think I would."

"What do you normally do today?" Lew asked.

"Honestly, I haven't done anything since I was seventeen," she explained. "But when I was a kid, I used to look forward to it all year long. What about you? What does Lewis Nixon do on his birthday?"

"Mostly just cake and presents. It was only ever my mom and me since my dad was always at work. Never had traditions. My birthday was just another day," he shrugged.

"Yeah, that's what mine is now. Just another day."

"Lip's getting his battlefield commission this afternoon. I'll wake you up so you can join us," Lew told her. He got up from the bed and started heading to the door.

"Lew, would you mind keepin' today a secret?" She asked. He stopped in the doorway and looked back at her.

"Happy birthday, Claire," he said with a smirk on his face.

 _Wait._

"Lew?" She asked.

He turned and walked out of the room.

"Lew? You didn't say anything," she called out after him. He didn't respond.

 _Oh no._

Claire laid back in the bed and huffed. She should've kept her mouth shut.

* * *

" _Bonne fête ma chérie," Claire's father told her softly as her eyes opened._

" _Papa, what're doing?" She asked and yawned._

" _It's not every day my sweet princess turns ten."_

 _She'd forgotten her birthday. It had only been a month since Maman went away. Papa said she and Leah were with God and his angels now._

" _Viens, ma belle, get dressed and I'm going to wake up your brother and all of us are going on an adventure."_

 _Claire rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. She got out of bed and took out her favourite dress. She braided her long hair and put on her shoes. She walked out to see James rubbing his eyes groggily as he walked out of his room dressed. They put on their light jackets and left the house._

 _The three of them got in the pick up truck and they drove all the way to Lafayette. Claire walked down main street, amazed at the amount of shops. She'd never been to Lafayette. James had his nose pressed up against the window to a toy store. Claire looked in and saw they had a row of these beautiful dolls in the front window. The most beautiful was one that had dark hair like Claire's, with brown eyes and porcelain skin. She gazed, wanting nothing more than to bring the doll back home._

" _James, Claire, come along," her father beckoned. Claire gave one last look at the doll before sighing and walking away. They would never be able to afford her. Besides, Claire already had a doll._

 _They spent the whole day in Lafayette. Papa took them to the movies. They were even allowed to have popcorn. They shared a small tub and watched the movie. It was one of the best days in her life. They got home later in the afternoon to see Mrs. Maude standing there, the smell of her fresh pot of jambalaya filled the air making Claire salivate._

 _The four of them sat at the dinner table, Maman's seat remained glaringly vacant. Once dinner was finished, Mrs. Maude brought out a small cake. It was only big enough for Claire and James to have a piece. It was a vanilla cake from the bakery in Breaux Bridge with white icing. It was delicious._

 _After dessert, Claire's father pulled out a wrapped present._

" _Open it," her father urged._

 _Claire pulled at the wrapping paper and saw that it was a silver medallion of St. Michael on a chain. She recognized it immediately. It was her mother's._

" _Merci, Papa," she said as she traced the pattern with her thumb. It was beautiful, and it hurt her heart._

Claire's eyes opened and she wiped the tears that had fallen while she slept. This was the first time in nearly a year that she'd dreamt about something good. Sure, she was sad, but the memory was still a good one. Claire went and touched the medallion around her neck. The chain had broken a long time ago and was replaced with the leather cord she currently had.

According to her father, back just before the Great War had finished, the two of them roamed the streets of London while on leave. They kept their relationship a secret as there was a strict non-fraternization policy. They came across a shop and she saw the medallion. Her mother knew all the Saints, so she bought the medallion and gave it to her father.

" _It will keep you safe."_

And it did. He made it out of France and they got married. When James went off to the Navy, she gave it to him. When he died, Henry brought it back to her. He stood in the lobby of her apartment building and he told her everything about how James died. She took the necklace and wordlessly walked away. He called after her but she ignored him. Now she carried it. She thought she'd lost it for six weeks, but it had been there the whole time, just a little misplaced. It was her most prized possession. The only thing she had left of her family.

The door opened and Lew came and got her. The two of them walked over to the room. The officers, including Harry who was back from the hospital. Even Lieutenant West-Point was there. He looked different from that arrogant, cocky boy who showed up a few days ago. War will do that to you. Lipton looked much healthier. She knew it would be a short ceremony.

"First Sergeant Lipton," Dick started. "Your honorable discharge as an enlisted man."

He handed Lipton the papers. "And your battlefield commission as a Second Lieutenant."

Claire smiled at him in pride. He deserved it.

"Congratulations Carwood," Dick said as he shook Lipton's hand.

Claire shook his hand.

"Congratulations."

"Thank you, ma'am."

"Call me Claire, Carwood," she said. They were both officers now, he didn't need to be too formal. The only people who called her Claire were the officers and Gene. Everyone else called her Lieutenant Rousseau, ma'am, Doc, or Russ.

There was a round of congratulations. Claire stood next to Lew.

"Hey Harry, thought it would be a while before we saw you," Lew said as they walked over to their friend. "Figured you'd be nursing your scratch for another month or two."

"Yeah, yeah, missed you too."

"Welcome back, Harry," Claire greeted him. Claire clapped him on the shoulder. Lew pulled out his flask and handed it to Harry. "Good to see you up and moving again."

"Thanks for looking after me, Claire," he told her.

"Someone's gotta make sure you get back to Kitty," she replied. Harry being okay and back was a welcome relief. She'd missed the little Irish man.

* * *

Not long after Lip got his battlefield commission, she saw that Lieutenant West-Point was promoted to First Lieutenant and he was being sent to Regimental HQ. She offered her polite congratulations before going into the living room with a mug of coffee. She sat on the couch before anyone could say anything about her being up. It was like having a room full of over-protective fathers.

She drank her coffee and for the first time in a while, she felt warm. She wasn't overheated, she was perfect. She saw Eugene come into the room. He came over sat on the table next to the couch.

"How're you feelin'?" He asked.

"Fever broke," she answered.

He put his hand to her forehead to make sure. He looked relieved. "Yep, you're still a bit warm, but seems like the worst is gone."

She smiled up at him. Eugene's eyes were tired and weary. She remembered them back at Toccoa, so full of life. He, just like every other soldier, had lost most of that light.

"Hey… you doin' alright?" She asked.

"I shoulda been faster," Eugene admitted. "For Jackson… I shoulda been faster."

Claire took Eugene's hand in hers comfortingly. "What did you tell me last night? What have I always told you, Gene? You can't blame yourself for the things you can't change."

"He shoulda lived," Eugene countered. "Men worse off then him've lived."

Claire thought about Tipper in that moment. He'd made it and she honestly didn't believe he was going to. She thought about the men in the church in Bastogne and how she helped put them back together. She also remembered how some of the men who'd gotten injuries that would most likely not kill them died.

"Sometimes, fear can be as lethal as a bullet or a grenade. In the end, they're the ones that have to fight to live. What happened was a horrible tragedy, but it wasn't your fault. You did everything right. You did everything you could," she assured him. She wasn't sure if she believed it entirely, but she needed him to.

Gene stayed quiet. Claire knew she should say something but she didn't know what to say. Instead she decided to change the subject. She let go of his warm hand, not realizing she was still holding it.

"How's second platoon doing?" She asked.

"Fine, better now. Guess you heard the news?" Gene asked.

"Uh-huh, getting moved off. About time too," she answered.

"Heard somethin' else too…"

"What is it?" She asked cautiously.

"Why didn't you tell me it was your birthday?" He asked.

"How did you find out?" Claire asked.

"Heard Captain Nixon talking to Luz to get an extra Hershey bar," he explained.

"I am going to kill Lewis Nixon," she grumbled under her breath. "I honestly didn't realize what day it was until today. Besides, it's just another day. Just means that I'm getting older."

"How old are you?" He asked.

"Twenty-four."

"Happy birthday, Claire," he told her.

She smiled at him. A warmth spreading through her chest. He smiled back at her, and it was a genuine one. The kind she remembered from before they jumped on Normandy. The kind where his face would light up. She loved that smile.

"Claire, can you come here for a minute?" Lew called as he stepped in the room.

"I'm coming," she sighed. She looked back at Gene and gave him a small smile.

Claire got up off the couch and walked over to Lew like a criminal walking to her execution. She didn't want to do anything for her birthday. Her birthday was always something she did with her family. Her father was the one who always went above and beyond.

She followed Lew back into the room where they gave Lip the battlefield commission.

"Lew, I told you, I didn't want…" She was cut off by Lew handing her something. It was a piece of paper. It was blank. She looked at him in confusion.

"You said you wanted nothing… so here's nothing," he said. "Happy birthday, kid."

She laughed. "But wait… Doc said he overheard you telling Luz for a chocolate bar?"

"Yeah, used it as an excuse," he pulled out the chocolate bar from his pocket. It was already open and he took a bite.

"You are a bad man," Claire joked.

"Truly terrible," he replied. "Oh, something else came for you today. I meant to give it earlier but I thought it would be more fun to do it now."

She rolled her eyes.

"What is it?"

He reached into his pocket with his other hand and pulled out another piece of paper. He handed it to her and Claire read the words very slowly.

"They're awarding me the Silver Star?" She said in disbelief.

"For what you did back in Bastogne," Lew explained.

"But it wasn't just me," she countered. "The men at the aid station deserve it just as much as I do."

"Take the compliment, Claire. What you did at Bastogne was brave. You're a hero."

She shook her head. "I'm not a hero. I did my job."

"Very few women have ever gotten this award," Lew added. "This is a good thing. You deserve it."

She looked down at the piece of paper again. She didn't feel like she deserved it.

* * *

Another birthday went by and now Claire was twenty-four. Unfortunately, because Lew told Luz, it spread around. She'd been well enough to go outside and walk around. She checked on the OPs and got the annoying 'Happy Birthday, Russ'.

The next morning, Easy Company was finally getting off the line. Her fever was gone and she was on the mend. She was leaning up against a jeep while people hustled around her. Before he got in his jeep, Lieutenant West-Point… Jones, gave her a polite nod. She acknowledged it and he was gone.

"That's what? Sixteen Lieutenant's since D-Day?" Claire asked noticing Dick leaning on the jeep beside her.

"Yep," he replied.

"You made the right call," she complimented, "about the patrol, I mean."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Dick replied and winked.

"Right, of course," she nodded.

"You doing alright?" He asked. Claire remembered how he woke her up because of the nightmare.

"I'm alright," she answered. "Just glad to be going off the line. It's about time."

"Couldn't agree with you more. Congratulations on the medal, by the way."

"Thanks… I'm surprised actually."

"How so?"

"I was just doing my job," she explained. "Why should I be awarded a medal when all I was doing was working?"

"I heard about what happened," Dick explained. "Your actions saved the lives of over forty soldiers."

"I lost five soldiers and two of my team because of what happened. One of my men is paralyzed because of _my_ actions."

"The thing about being a leader, Claire, is that you need to make the tough choices and sometimes those choices get people killed. What you need to remember is that if you hadn't done what you'd done, forty others would be dead," Dick explained. "You won't save everybody."

It was the sort of thing her father would've told her. Claire sometimes forgot that Dick was only two years older than her. War had aged him, just like it had everyone. Yesterday, Claire caught sight of herself in the mirror. Her hair now reached the middle of her neck and a few of her hairs had gone grey.

"I know I won't… I had to write to the family of one of my medics that died. I've had that letter sent to me, Dick. I never wanted to be the one to write it," she explained.

"You're a good leader, Claire. You're good at your job. But, I need to know… can you still handle this?" He asked her. She knew it wasn't personal. Dick had to look after three companies. He needed to make sure all his soldiers were able to do their jobs.

"I can," she assured. "I wasn't raised to be a quitter. We've all got our jobs to do."

"Okay," he said.

"There you are." They both looked over to see Lew coming towards them. "Dick, I got that report all done. Shame they couldn't get anymore prisoners."

"Yeah, unfortunate," Dick replied.

"So, back to Mourmelon, then?" Claire asked.

"For a while, yeah," Lew replied.

"Then where?"

"We'll know more once we get back," Dick answered. He didn't know yet either.

"Oh, that reminds me, Colonel Sink is a bit unhappy with your uniform, he says it isn't befitting to your rank," Lew spoke to Dick. He handed him a little box. Dick opened it.

"Oak leaves?"

Claire smiled at him. "Congratulations, Major."

Both Claire and Lew saluted Dick. It was about time he got promoted. He'd been doing the work of a Major with the rank of a Captain.

"Gentlemen, lady, we're ready to go," the jeep driver informed them.

"I'm driving," Dick said.

"Claire, you riding with us?" Lew asked.

"Yeah," she answered as she hopped in the back seat.

They pulled away from town. The truck convoy followed behind them. There was a collective sense of relief among them. Finally, it felt like they could breathe again.

* * *

 **I hope you, liked it. If you did, please leave a review.**


	22. Silver Star

_Mourmelon, March 1945_

More replacements came in. They stared in awe at the Battered Bastards of Bastogne. When she looked at them, she couldn't help but see Bill, Joe Toye, Walter Gordon, Hoobler, Buck, Skip, Penkala, all the ones they lost. Toccoa men, good men, that's who they were replacing. She wondered how long these ones would last.

As usual, their shock and awe over seeing a woman wearing the uniform of a paratrooper caused a stir. However, unlike the last batch that had come to Mourmelon, Claire hadn't been gone for six weeks. There wasn't time for rumours and stories about her to spark intrigue. When the replacements asked about Bastogne, most of the men told them to fuck off. No one wanted to relive any part of that frozen Hell. They were all waiting for the next battlefield. Rumours were that the enemy's supplies were practically depleted and there was an end in sight. Claire, however, would only believe it when she saw it.

Claire sat off to the sidelines watching her friends playing baseball, she hadn't wanted to join. It was a rare day were it wasn't too cold, though after Bastogne, nothing could ever compare. Claire supposed they all wanted to have some fun without fear of the world exploding around that.

The last few days had been hard with the constant snickers and jokes made behind her back from the replacements. They'd learnt quickly not to do it around the other men, her men. They always had her back, but she knew the replacements had figured it out. But they couldn't always be around. Quite frankly, she did not give a damn about the lack of respect the new boys had for her. After watching some of her closest friends lose limbs, break down, and get blown up, she did not have the energy to earn their respect. Especially not when they haven't even been in the fray.

She kept thinking about tomorrow. The entire division was being presented with the Presidential Unit Citation. The first time this award was ever given to an entire division. Tomorrow, Claire would be receiving the Silver Star for her actions in Bastogne. A stupid award in her opinion. She did what any other medic would do.

Someone took the spot on the bench next to her. She'd been so lost in her own thoughts, she hadn't realized. To her surprise, it was Speirs sitting there. They spoke on occasion, and she cleaned him out of a hundred dollars in a card game, but besides that they didn't interact too much. Even more surprising, he pulled out a pack of smokes and offered one to her.

"You're not gonna shoot me if I take one, right?" She asked only half joking.

Speirs winked. Claire narrowed her eyes and cautiously took the cigarette.

"You got a light?" She asked. He lit it for her. She inhaled the nicotine.

And without another word, Speirs was gone. Claire wondered what all that was about. Around her, she could see them whispering.

She didn't have long to ponder as Luz and Malarkey each took a spot on her sides.

"What the Hell was that about?" Luz asked. "How are you still alive?"

Claire rolled her eyes.

"I dunno. Guess he thought I needed a smoke."

But she figured it out. It was a power move. They all knew the stories about Speirs. Those were stories the veterans enjoyed recounting to the new replacements. But she didn't know why he would help her. It wasn't like they knew each other all that well.

"Being a hero grants immunity," Malarkey joked. She noticed how little he did that anymore. This was why she didn't get angry when he brought up the medal she was receiving tomorrow.

"Fuck you."

Her friends knew that she was dreading the ceremony tomorrow. Yesterday, she went on a rant with Eugene on how she didn't deserve this award. What she did was not heroic. It was what any nurse, doctor, or medic would do.

She wasn't a hero. She was a soldier.

"Christ look at them," Luz nodded over to the replacements. "How many of them you think've shaved?"

"Nothing but a bunch of kids."

"Hard to think we were like them once," she voiced. "All green, bright eyed and bushy tailed… now look at us."

"We were never that bad."

She scoffed. "Don't you remember D-Day? Can't remember who it was but they yelled before the planes took off 'Look out Hitler, the Airborne's coming'."

"At least we weren't that bad to you," Malarkey pressed.

Once again Claire laughed. "Need I remind you that I spent most of Toccoa on my ass? Hell, you guys were worst. Difference between then and now is y'all wizened up."

They'd all come a very long way since Toccoa.

* * *

Later Claire found herself in the officer's mess. She grabbed her tray of food and made her way over to where Speirs was sitting alone. She took the spot across from him.

"To what do I owe the pleasure, Lieutenant?" He asked.

"I wanted to thank you," she told him, "for what you did."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Speirs replied.

"Must be nice, huh, never having to share your smokes," she said.

"Has it's perks."

"I get why you do it."

"You do?"

"If they're afraid of you, then they'll never go against your orders," she shrugged.

"Smart girl."

"It's one of my many charms," she replied. "But what I don't understand is why. You have to know that every single one of these guys would do whatever you said not because they fear you but because they respect you."

Speirs stopped eating for a moment. His normal stony expression faltered for a moment. Claire swore she saw a flash of remorse in his eyes.

"What happened?" Claire asked.

"I didn't shoot twenty POWs," he said.

"I knew those rumours about you were bullshit," She said with a satisfied smirk.

"... But I did kill one of my men."

Claire's smile fell off her face as she dropped her fork on the tray. She tried to mask her shock.

"Why?"

"He was drunk and loud. He was giving away our position. It came down him or the rest of us and so I made the call," he explained matter-of-factly.

She didn't know what to say.

"Maybe I'll regret it later," he told her, "but if it happened again, I'd make the exact same call."

Claire played around with her food not looking at him.

"So would I," she told him after a long silent pause.

And that was what scared her the most. If it meant choosing between the safety of her men or the life of one man, she'd chose her men, no questions asked. The scariest part was how okay she was with it.

* * *

It was a bright sunny day. Claire stood at the front of the large group of soldiers in her Class A uniform. Her hair was pinned back and her cap rested on her head. Her skirt was too big for her now. She had to pin it around her waist in order to make it fit. The entire ceremony passed in a blur. The entire 101st Airborne was awarded a Presidential Unit Citation for their bravery in Bastogne. General Taylor had come back to award them. General Eisenhower, Ridgeway from the 82nd, and some other fancy Generals were there. General Taylor gave a speech about his pride in the division, Claire had to bite back her laughter. He wasn't even there. He was back stateside eating warm food in his warm house.

After that ceremony was finished, Claire's name was called. She walked up to the front and stood at attention.

Claire stared out at the rows of soldiers, some she knew, some she didn't. She couldn't see the faces of her boys, but she did see Lew, Dick, and Ron standing at the front. General Taylor stepped forward and started to speak. She couldn't listen as General Taylor commended her for her bravery in the face of adversity.

 _Face of adversity._

The only faces Claire saw were those of Melville, Renée, Carson, and the five wounded soldiers that died during the bombing. Her own expression remained stoic. A mask to hide the absolute heartbreak she felt. This was a reminder of the darkest point in the war, a time she so desperately wanted to forget.

 _I'm sorry,_ she told them, _I should've saved you._

She didn't deserve this. She wasn't the hero General Taylor was making her out to be. Skip Muck, Alex Penkala, Melville, Renée, James were heroes. Carson, Bill, Buck, and Joe Toye were heroes. Not her. She did her job. Nothing else.

"Lieutenant Claire Rousseau, for your bravery under the line of fire at Bastogne, I award you with the Silver Star," General Taylor said as he came in front of her and pinned the medal to her uniform.

She swallowed the lump in her throat. In Bastogne, they went through the worst month. They lost a lot of people, good people. She lost one of her closest friends. She watched as he got blown up to nothing. She saw the blood stained stone floor of the church that crushed Renée and Melville. These were memories, horrors, that would forever plague her mind.

The group saluted General Taylor, and he saluted back. She turned to Eisenhower and the others and saluted them. They saluted back. Claire's stoic expression had not broken. She stood as trumpets played and Claire turned and marched back to her spot. Claire made it back to Easy Company and stood at attention next to Ron. She didn't make eye contact with him, instead she stared blankly ahead.

When the long ceremony finally ended, they marched back to base. Claire didn't say anything to anyone as she walked back to her barracks. Claire took off the medal from her uniform and tossed it on her bunk as if it were on fire. She shrugged out of her jacket and sat on her bunk her head in her hands.

She could do this. She had to do this. _I've come this far._ Bastogne was over now. It was in the past.

 _Don't dwell on the things you can't change._

She made the calls and she had to live with them. The war seemed like it was ending. The Germans didn't look like they had much fight left in them. The Allies were already breaking through into Germany. She could make it. The worst was behind them. It had to be.

* * *

 **I know, incredibly short in comparison to most of what I've been publishing but I really wanted the moment with Speirs and the Silver Star ceremony and I felt that it would interrupt the flow of the next chapter if I would've inserted it at the start. Either way, it's better than nothing.**

 **Thank you to everyone who reviewed. Let me know what you thought of this chapter.**

 **Thank you to Byron W.4 for pointing out a couple of factual errors I made.**


	23. Why?

_April 1945- Sturzelberg Germany_

Easy Company stayed in Mourmelon for around five weeks before they moved out again. This time, they weren't so much in battle as they were occupying the line. There wasn't much action, something Claire was incredibly thankful for.

Her biggest concern was fraternizing. A few times since arriving in Germany, Claire dealt with cases of STIs. Luckily, they had plenty of penicillin. She gave out prophylactic kits like they were candy on Halloween. A few of the replacements were embarrassed to drop their skivvies so Claire could get a look.

"Ain't nothin' I haven't seen before," she would assure them.

Claire was staying in an apartment building with the other officers. She had an entire apartment to herself, the first time she'd been alone since they were in Aldbourne the previous summer. She even had a bath. An honest to goodness bath. There was toilet paper and flower scented soap. She even found a tube of lipstick. It was a beautiful pearly red. She put it on her lips. It looked foreign on her. She hadn't worn lipstick since she got her wings. The longer she left it on, the more she began to look like a woman again. She took it off immediately of course, it wasn't regulation with her uniform.

That morning, Claire walked out of her apartment to go and meet Eugene. They were actually bored. She got to sleep in a real bed, eat real food, and take a real bath. Germany was almost as good as being back in the States.

They only thing that wasn't better was Lew's drinking. This morning, while Claire was coming back from the mess hall, she overheard Sink asking if Dick wanted Lew back. Sink couldn't take the excessive drinking. Lew was now demoted back down to S-3. Lew was jumping this morning with the 17th Airborne as an observer.

The sun shined brightly in the sky. She was walking out of the building when a jeep pulled up at full speed, narrowly hitting her.

"Watch where you're going!" She barked at the driver. She saw that it was Lew sitting in the passenger seat with a blank expression on his face. What was he doing back so early?

Lew thanked the driver but didn't acknowledge her as he went in the apartment building and up the stairs.

"Lieutenant Rousseau!" She turned around to see one of the replacements, she thought his name might be McGuire or something along those lines.

"What is it Private?" She asked.

"Sergeant Grant told me to come get you. Murray's stomach. He says it feels like it's gonna burst," the soldier said frantically.

"Okay, private, I need you to run get Doc Roe," she ordered. "Tell him to get a stretcher."

"Yes, ma'am."

Claire took off running towards the house where First Platoon was staying. She pushed through the door. She could hear the moaning coming from up the stairs. She sprinted up the steps, taking them two at a time. There was a small crowd of soldiers standing outside one of the rooms.

"Move. Move. Move. Out of my way!" She barked.

Inside the room, Murray was laying on the bed clutching his stomach. He was young. Claire assumed he'd lied about his age to get into the army. Grant was next to his bed pressing a cloth to his forehead. She got on her knees next to the bed and started off to work.

"When did this start?" Claire asked Grant.

"Dunno, woke up this morning with a fever then started saying he thought his stomach was gonna burst," Grant explained.

"He said his stomach was hurting yesterday, ma'am," another replacement informed her.

"Okay, Murray, I need you to tell me where it hurts," she told the private who was writhing in pain. "Is it up close to your chest or low?"

"L-Low," he managed to grunt out.

"I'm gonna have a look."

She lifted his shirt to see that his abdomen was swollen.

"I'm going to press on your stomach. Tell me when it hurts."

Claire proceeded to start pressing on the skin. Murray let out a loud cry in pain as she got to the lower right part of his abdomen. It was rigid. She knew what was happening.

"Looks like you've got appendicitis. We're gonna get you back to an aid station and get it out," she explained. "In the meantime, I'm gonna give you a bit of morphine. That'll help with the pain." She stuck a syrette in his arm. Based on the rigid belly, his appendix was about to burst. If they didn't take it out now, there was a strong possibility that he would die.

Gene came into the room carrying a stretcher with, to her surprise, O'Connor in tow. The 326th was stocked with replacements making O'Connor, Jones, and Wilkes the seniors. Wilkes was promoted to First Lieutenant in Bastogne and then to Captain after the head surgeon was killed in the Ardennes. Now he was the Battalion Surgeon. She didn't know, however, that they were in Struzelberg with them. They must've just gotten in.

"Roe, O'Connor, get him on the stretcher," she ordered. "We need to make this quick, boys."

She said the last part in a low voice so that only the two medics could hear her. They nodded and no sooner did she say it that the three of them were out the door. Claire looked back at Grant and gave him a reassuring nod.

There was a jeep parked in front of the house. O'Connor and Eugene put Murray on the back. He was still writhing in pain. The morphine should be kicking in any time.

"I'm driving! We'll get there faster!" Claire barked. They looked at her in surprise for a moment before O'Connor tossed her the keys as he sat in the back with Murray to monitor him. Gene sat next to her in the passenger's seat. It had been a while since she'd driven, but she remembered it all the same.

Claire got in the driver's seat and turned the ignition on. She threw the jeep into drive and started speeding down the road. Claire honked to warn people she was coming.

"MOVE!" She would yell as she drove furiously. She honked as Talbert, Liebgott, Skinny, and Popeye dove out of the way.

"Sorry!" She yelled back.

The aid station was just on the other side of town, Claire made it in record time. She barely stopped as Eugene and O'Connor hopped out and took the stretcher. Claire parked and ran in after them.

"Status?" Wilkes asked upon seeing them.

"Acute appendicitis," she informed. "It's about to burst. Abdomen is rigid and swollen. High fever."

"Morphine?"

"One syrette, administered ten minutes ago."

"Bring him this way," Wilkes directed the medics to the surgical area. "Lieutenant Rousseau, scrub in."

She did as she was told.

"Jones, prep the patient for surgery," he ordered. "Administer the ether."

"Command looks good on you, Wilkes," Claire complimented as they got ready for surgery.

"Well, last CO I had was a hard ass, but ran a damn good aid station. Took a few tips," he told her.

Claire smirked. She put on a surgical mask and some gloves as the two set off to work. It was like being back in Colorado serving as a surgical nurse. An appendectomy was one of the simplest procedures a doctor could perform. It wasn't a long one either. Jones sat by Murray's head to monitor the anesthesia. In most field hospitals, it would be a nurse specially trained who would administer it. Jones was trained. He'd been the one doing it in most of the surgeries in Bastogne. Unfortunately, there wasn't enough time to get Murray to a field hospital.

Murray's appendix had swollen to a considerable size. She was surprised it hadn't burst sooner. As soon as Claire put it in the container, it exploded, releasing a terrible odor. Claire wrinkled her nose in disgust as she set the container down. Wilkes closed up the incision and just like that they were done.

"Just like old times, huh, Lieutenant," Wilkes said once the surgery was over.

"Yeah, just a little more lighting and a little less stress," she replied.

"Jones, O'Connor, take him to post-op. Then prep him to be evacuated," Wilkes ordered.

Claire saw that Eugene was still sitting in the tent. She threw out the gloves.

"Anything we can do about the smell?" Eugene asked.

"Oh, right," she said.

Claire ran back over to the surgical area and went the container with the exploded appendix. She pulled out the match book from her kit. The match book had been in her kit since Normandy she got the new kit, since hers ended up at the bottom of a river. She never used them, preferring her lighter. She lit the match and tossed it in the metal container. It caught fire and the smell dissipated. She used a sheet of metal and covered the container to block the flame.

When she and Eugene finally exited the aid station, Claire looked at him.

"So, we walkin' or d'you want me to drive again?" Claire joked. She'd seen how pale he got when they were ripping down the street.

"I am never doin' that again. You drive like a mad woman," he told her.

Okay, she was an angry driver.

"So we're walking," she answered. Claire took out her pack of smokes and offered one to Gene before taking one for herself.

They started down the path back to the center of town.

"You didn't have to stay," she told him after a while. "Watch the surgery and all that."

"I wanted to," he shrugged. "Seemed like you were right at home in there."

"When I was in school, I did my training in the emergency room. Then, when I joined the army, I was a surgical nurse in Colorado. When I was there… I dunno, it was a rush. I've always wanted to help people, maybe save their lives, and when I was working in the operating room… it felt like I was making a difference," she explained.

"So, that what you're gonna do when you get home? Be a surgical nurse?" He asked.

She paused and looked down at the ground.

"I haven't really thought about it," she answered. "The war's not over yet, Gene."

"I know," he replied. "But it feels like it's gonna end soon. Feels like it's safe to start thinking about what to do after… you've really never thought about it?"

"I dunno," she shrugged. "Not really."

"You don't want to get married? Have kids?" He pressed.

She bit the inside of her cheek. She did want that.

"Someday…" she pondered over the possibility. "But it'd have to be with the right person."

Claire used to dream about one day falling in love like the women in her books, or like her parents did, but all the boys she'd ever liked weren't that. She'd been in love once, or at least she thought she had been.

"But I think, in the meantime, I'm going to stick to being a nurse. It's all I've been good at," she told him.

"That's not all," Eugene complimented.

"Oh really?" Claire responded.

"Nah, you're pretty good at cards too," he answered.

"There is a reason no one will play against me anymore," she laughed.

Eugene smirked back at her.

If Claire ever fell in love, she decided that he would need to be the type of man who would care about her despite all the things that Philip Lemay, her ex-boyfriend, had tried very hard to change. He had to make her happy, and not just because he gave her things. She'd have someone that made her smile, laugh, feel like things were going to be okay even in the darkest moments.

* * *

When they made it back to the center of town, Claire saw Lew exit the apartment building. She told Eugene she would come find him later and ran over to him.

"Claire," he said in surprise.

"So, you gonna apologize for almost taking me out earlier?" She replied.

"Funny, didn't I see you whipping around?"

"I was getting my patient to the aid station before his appendix burst," she defended. "So, how'd the jump go this morning? I'm surprised to see you back so soon."

"Didn't go well," he told her. "Got hit over the drop zone… I got out, two others got out… but no one else. They lost their CO too, so guess who gets to write all the letters home?"

She was stunned, suddenly feeling like a jerk for joking around.

"I-I'm so sorry," was all she could say.

"Why? It wasn't me," he replied. "I gotta go. Current events lecture. And just so you know, Cary Grant is still married."

Lew often teased her about her love for Cary Grant. It stemmed from a weekend pass she got back at Toccoa. Instead of staying at camp, she went to the movies, _Talk of the Town_ was playing. She ran into Lew there; this was just after they started slowly becoming friends. They sat together and once Cary Grant came on screen, she told Lew _'See, that's what a man looks like.'_. Now, whenever Lew did current event lectures, he'd remind her that sadly, Cary Grant was married.

"Meh, I know a lost cause when I see one," she brushed it off. Normally, she would say _'Well, when he meets me, that'll change.'_

He looked at her, surprised. "Huh, the love died down, did it?"

She shrugged. "Things change."

While Lew gave the enlisted men the highlights of current events, Claire was taking some much needed break time. She sat in a chair outside and began corresponding to letters she'd received a few days before but hadn't had the time to read. Bill wrote to her. He and Joe were at a hospital in England but they were going to be transferred back to the States soon. Apparently, they were 'raising hell' there. He thanked her for that day back at the Bois Jacques. She didn't tell him about how Bastogne finished, though she figured he must already know somehow. Instead, Claire told him about Germany, how despite it being enemy territory, she found it beautiful. She told him about the bathroom, the food, the warm beds… _'Almost like home'_ she wrote.

She also received a letter from Alice. Her brother was out of the hospital now, but the war left him with severe burns on his torso. He also had nerve damage in his leg, which meant he had a permanent limp and had to walk with a cane, but he was alive. At least Alice had someone. Apparently, she was doing well in school. Her thirteenth birthday passed. She still lived with her aunt and uncle on their farm. She sounded happy for the most part. As happy as she could be in this situation.

Claire wrote that she was glad that Alice was okay. She hoped and prayed that she was still that wonderfully curious and innocent girl Claire met in Aldbourne two years ago. Claire didn't want Alice to become like her: hard, bitter, pessimistic about the world. Someone who was full of so much loss, they didn't remember what being happy felt like. She wanted Alice to dream, to have hope. She wanted her to believe.

Claire received one more letter. She nearly threw it out, but out of curiosity, she decided to read it. She read every word like a she was mentally diffusing a bomb. When she finished, Claire angrily crumpled up the piece of paper and stuck it in her pocket. She should've just thrown the letter right out.

Later, Claire found herself in desperate need of a drink. She went to the one place where there was always alcohol.

"Lew."

Claire knocked at his door. He opened the door, he looked harder. His eyes softened slightly at the sight of her.

"What can I do for you?" He asked.

"Still got some of that Vat 69?" She responded.

"A bit, yeah."

"I need a drink," she told him. Claire pulled out the piece of crumpled paper in her pocket and handed it to him. Lew unrumpled the letter, read it, and looked up at her.

"Yeah, you need a drink."

* * *

"Disgrace? Can you believe that?" Claire slurred as she took another shot of the whiskey, cringing slightly at the taste. "Old hag."

Her grandmother wrote her the letter. She sent it a month ago. Apparently, she found out that Claire had gone to war somehow. The woman was 'trying to make amends'. But then she heard Claire was an army nurse, she was livid. The letter called her several terrible things and said that she was a disgrace to their family name, that she would never be welcome in their lives –not that she ever had been to begin with.

"I don't even go by Cormier! I'm a Rousseau through and through," she continued. "All because I want to help people instead of getting married and pumping out babies and looking after my slob husband."

She took another shot, furthering her drunkenness.

"Imagine if she knew I was actually in a company of only men," she said. "Bet the Old Bat would have a damn heart attack. Maybe I oughta send her my Silver Star, really seal the deal."

"Claire, don't listen to her. What she says doesn't change all the good you did," Lew told her.

"Yeah, who cares what some old money bitch has to say?" Claire agreed. "I'm a fucking disgrace!"

She laughed as she said it. The alcohol was really hitting her hard.

"If she knew what it was like, the shit I've seen… done… she'd clutch her pearls and drop dead right there," Claire rambled. "I haven't spoken to her in _years_ and she has the audacity to call me a _disgrace_?! 'When you're done with all this army nonsense, perhaps I will forgive you.' _Perhaps I will forgive you_?! Cow."

"Fuck her."

She took another shot, this one pushed her over the edge into full on drunk mode. Around her, the world was swirling. She was light headed, but not in a bad way.

"You know, she's the fucking disgrace," Claire slurred. "Wanna know what she said the last time I actually saw her?"

"I'm sure you're going to tell me either way."

She did.

"I was about nine. She, along with my snobby aunt, her bratty son, and my grandfather, decided to take it upon themselves to 'include' my brother and I in the family. Wasn't long after my mom died. She took one look at me in my dirty dress, messy braids, and wrinkled her nose. She told me that 'good little girls always look clean and presentable'."

"That's not so bad," Lew shrugged.

"Oh, I'm not done," she countered. "Later, my brother and I were playing outside. We were throwing around a ball and my bratty cousin came out. He wanted James's glove. When my brother said no, he pushed James over. Of course, I ran and hit him. We started fighting, and I got pulled off by none other than my grandmother. My cousin starts blubbering and my grandmother grips my arm. 'Vicious little savage! Just like your mother!'. My father kicked them out. Said they were not welcome back. Haven't heard from them until well… now. Not after my dad died, not after my brother…"

Claire took another shot. "Who says that to a child? All because some snot nosed brat wanted something he couldn't have."

"Here I thought my family was a mess," Lew said.

"I hate her. I hate them," Claire said bitterly as she took another shot.

Lew also took another shot as well.

Claire huffed. She needed a distraction.

"Change of subject. Did you write the letters?"

Lew took a drink. He seemed just as angry and upset as she did.

"Started 'em."

"I had to write the letter to Alexander Melville's parents. He was one of my medics in Bastogne. He died in the bombings when I ordered my men to carry the wounded out of the church. I don't know how Dick did it, how Ron does it… One of the hardest things I've had to do in this war."

"At least you knew him. I don't know any of those guys."

"Might make it easier… What I learnt is that it ain't about telling the truth, it's about telling the families what they need to hear. You tell them their sons died as heroes and that 'their sacrifice was not meaningless'. You apologize for their loss but that's all you can do," Claire advised.

"You're getting wise in your old age," Lew teased looking like his old self again.

"Fuck you," she replied. "Enough about all of that. Heard from Kathy?"

Lew's wife did not come up in conversation often. They didn't talk about home much. They always found other things to talk about.

"She's fine I think," Lew replied. "Haven't heard from her in a while."

"Mail's slow," she offered. "I didn't get the letter saying Lieutenant Thompson was dead until a month or so after."

It wasn't normally as slow as it was with the letter from Wilbur Conley.

"She died?" Lew questioned.

"Uh-huh, back in September on some island in the Pacific," she explained.

"Damn."

"Yep."

"You know anything about the other one?" Lew asked.

"Nope… I don't even know her name… This fucking war," she hiccupped.

Her eyes were beginning to droop.

"Yep. Alright, bed time for you."

"But it's not late," she whined.

"It's late enough," Lew countered.

"No. I wanna keep drinking because _I_ am a disgrace," she slurred a bit more. And then she yawned.

Turns out, she was a tired drunk. Her eyes slumped and she fell asleep at the table. Very unladylike.

 _Might as well look the part if I'm going to be called a disgrace._

* * *

Head pounding. Mouth dry. Neck stiff.

Why the hell is the world so loud?

Claire opened her eyes and the sun was blaring in. She wasn't at the table where she'd fallen asleep. She was in her bed.

"Time to get up, Claire!"

She groaned and buried her face in her pillow. Her head was pounding.

"Go away, Lew," she groaned.

"Does someone have a headache?" He asked loudly.

"Shhh!"

"Come on, up out of bed," he urged. "We're moving out in about forty-five minutes."

Claire groaned once more and then got out of bed. She was still in her uniform.

"How the hell did I get here?" Claire asked.

"You're a lot heavier than you look," Lew answered. "C'mon kiddo, we're heading to the Alps."

"So no jump into Berlin, huh?" Claire asked.

"Ike's letting the Russkies have it," he explained. "Waffen SS was ordered to hold up in the mountains, start a guerilla war."

"Jesus Christ," she cursed.

"Bright side, three hundred thousand Krauts surrendered."

"That is a bright side," she said. "Would you mind giving me a minute?"

"Sure."

She drank from her canteen, her mouth was dry and her mouth had an awful taste in it. She could hardly believe how much she drank the night before. Her grandmother made her do that. _Old cow._

She had to let it go. There's still a war going on. She didn't know why it bothered her so much. She knew her grandmother was a terrible person.

Claire brushed her teeth and put water on her face. She straightened her uniform and fixed her hair. Well, did what she could. Luckily, her helmet would cover it. She looked like hell still. She still had the pounding headache. She pinched the bridge of her nose and went to finish packing her things. She pushed away the small wave of nausea that rolled over her. She then quickly made the bed and headed out the door.

She walked outside, cringing at the brightness. She found Eugene and went to him. She threw her stuff in the back of the truck he was in and crawled up. He got a look at her haggard appearance and laughed.

"Rough night?" He asked.

"Not a word."

He smirked at her.

She sat back at the back next to him. Normally, they wouldn't have the two of them in the same truck, just in case, but it was going to be a long trip and she wanted to be with the one person who probably wouldn't annoy her at this point.

She leaned back. Her eyes closed, trying to keep the sunlight away.

"So, where we headin'?" It was Malarkey that asked as he plopped down next to her.

"Alps," she explained shielding her eyes from the harsh sunlight. "No jump into Berlin."

"Damn," Malarkey cursed.

"Yep," she said.

"…and he ain't gonna jump no more," the soldiers started singing.

 _So much for a peaceful ride._

She huffed but joined in the song. She was leaning against the railing, singing along.

"Gory, gory, what a hell of a way to die. Gory, gory, what a hell of a way to die. Gory, gory what a hell of a way to die, and he ain't gonna jump no more."

She looked up to see Eugene standing, a large smile on his face. His helmet was off, the wind through his hair. He looked handsome standing there. His eyes didn't look as dark as they had back in Belgium. He caught her eye and they smiled at each other.

"The lines were wrapped around his neck; D rings broke his dome. His lifts wrapped themselves around each skinny bone."

The song was a warning to paratroopers about not packing their chute correctly.

"The canopy became his shroud, he hurtled to the ground, and he ain't gonna jump no more!"

After everything that happened over the last year, they could see the end coming. The Germans were surrendering by the thousands. They were almost at Berlin's gates, even though Easy was heading to fight the SS in the Alps.

"He hit the ground the sound was 'splat', his blood was spurting high. His comrades they were heard to say 'a helluva way to die'! He lay there rollin' round the welter of his gore, and he ain't gonna jump no more."

The more they sang, the more Claire could actually believe it. The worst was behind them. They were going to make it back to the States. The beautiful German landscape zipped by. Hard to believe such a picturesque place was full of darkness.

"Gory, gory, what a hell of a way to die. Gory, gory, what a hell of a way to die. Gory, gory, what a hell of a way to die. He ain't gonna jump no more!" Claire's voice went high pitch to hit that final note.

After the song, Eugene sat back down. Her temporary distraction from the hangover went away and she felt rotten once more.

"Do me a favour, Eugene, wake me up when we stop," she requested.

"You got it."

Claire leaned back and rested her head against the railing and fell asleep.

* * *

Claire did not sleep for very long. The road was bumpy, making it difficult. When she woke up, her head had been lolling from side to side. Her neck was sore.

"We there yet?" She asked groggily.

"Nope."

Her hangover felt better. She felt better. Her grandmother could say what she wanted. That woman was not her family. She never had been. Her family was dead. Claire took out a cigarette from her pack and put it to her lips. She lit and took a deep drag.

 _Old hag._

While they were driving, she could hear some men talking about what they were going to do after the war. She smiled at their hopes, and the future they had planned. Many of them wanted to go back to school.

Their fantasies of what the future would hold were cut short when they drove by the execution of three SS soldiers by the French. Claire saw the young replacement, O'Keefe, jump at the gunshots. He looked at the men in horror. _If only he knew_. That was nothing. They probably deserved it.

When they got on the highway, Claire was blown away by how many German soldiers were walking. They'd surrendered. They were beaten, but they still marched with pride. They passed officers who were in a horse drawn carriage while their soldiers walked. Then, Private Webster stood up and began yelling at them. He asked the one question that many had been asking themselves.

"What the fuck are we doing here?" He asked.

She knew why she was here. She knew why she was fighting in this war. It was the right thing to do. She would never bear arms, that was not her place in this war. She helped people. She used her training to heal them. There were men alive because of her. She was doing what she was supposed to do. Everyone had to find their own purpose. Their own reason to fight. For some it was because they felt a civic duty, but for others, it was more. Webster needed to figure it out.

They were spending the night in a small town named Lansberg. Claire hung back at the entrance of the apartment building they were clearing out Gene was standing with her. There were some of the men out on a patrol to make sure there would be no ambush. They needed a place to spend the night. She watched as a German family was ushered out of the house. Claire had her helmet off and Claire was running her fingers through her growing hair, trying to comb through it. It was reaching halfway down her neck.

"Gehen aus!" she heard Liebgott say as he ushered out another family. An older German woman looked over and locked eyes with her. The woman glared, looking appalled at the sight of her, and then spat in her face. Claire yelped and wiped the spit from her face.

"Soldatenhure!" she swore.

"Yeah, yeah, keep moving Kraut," Claire grumbled.

The German woman kept yelling obscene things at Claire as Liebgott and More were now pushing her out. When the woman was finally gone, Claire was angrily cursing her out under her breath.

"You okay?" Gene asked.

"Fine," she replied shortly. "First I get called a disgrace…"

"What?" Gene asked. She hadn't meant to say it out loud.

"Nothing," she replied. "Wish I could say it's the first time a person spat in my face. I'm gonna claim an apartment with a bath before Lieutenant Welsh does."

* * *

Claire found the apartment of the woman who spat in her face. The pictures gave it away. Claire tossed her bag on the couch and started looking around. She wasn't much of a looter. Minus the journal, she never took anything. But this was different, the woman had pissed her off. Her pettiness outweighed her morality at this point. She was angry. So, Claire walked around the room and looked. Then, she found it. It was in a drawer in the bedroom buried under trousers. It was a sliver hair clip that was decorated with what looked like vines that met up to form a blue flower made of gem. It looked old. She slipped the hair clip in her bag and walked back out. She chose the next door apartment.

Claire put her bag on the couch and made her way outside. She ran into Lew outside. She hadn't spoken to him or seen him since they left Sturzelberg.

"Lew, there you are!" She said as she ran over to him. He smiled, but it wasn't his regular smile. This one was forced. His eyes were still cold, distant. "Are you okay?"

"Been better," he answered. "Kathy's divorcing me."

Claire rolled back on her heels, stunned. "What?"

"She's taking everything too: house, kid, hell, even my dog."

"I'm so sorry, Lew… That's awful. She say why?" Claire asked.

"Doesn't matter. Either way, it's done," he answered. "Probably for the best anyway."

"Maybe…" Claire shrugged, not know what to say. "Still… It's awful that she wrote it to you while you're here."

"Better she tell me then me getting a notice from her lawyer," Lew countered.

"I guess…"

"I'll be alright."

"I know you will," she replied.

"Nix, Claire, we gotta go," Harry said as he came over to them.

"What? Where?" Nix asked.

"Patrol found something."

"What is it?" Claire asked.

"Dunno. He just said to get everyone."

Claire looked over at Lew who shrugged. Orders were orders. Claire was surprised that she was getting called over, normally for patrols, the medics stayed behind. Claire rode in the jeep with Lew, Dick, Harry, and Perconte. Lew, Harry, and Claire were piled in the back while Dick drove.

* * *

The first thing Claire noticed the further they got from town was the lack of noise. Normally, even over the loud busy engines from the trucks, jeeps, and other vehicles, Claire could still hear the songs of birds, but out here, nothing.

"Here," Perconte said as he directed.

The next thing she saw were large barbed wire fences, and some of her boys standing around. The stench of death clung in the air. When the jeep stopped, Claire could see Bull kneeling, facing away from the fences. Claire looked up from him and took in a sharp breath. Standing on the other side of the fence were men, though she wasn't sure she could call them that anymore. They were walking skeletons. Their skin was now a shade of grey, their cheeks sunk in. Some men had patchy tufts of hair on their heads but most were bald. She couldn't quite tell how old any of them were, they all looked like old men. Their clothes, tattered blue striped pyjamas, hung off them like that of a scarecrow in a farmer's field.

What was this place?

Claire observed these men with intensity. There were quite a few who didn't have shirts on and Claire could see every rib, collar bone, their stomachs were sunk in giving them almost a question mark appearance. It was like staring at the old anatomy skeleton she had in school, only this one had skin, and was living, breathing, walking…

"Open it up," she could hear Dick order.

These men were sick. They needed help.

The gate was opened and Claire moved forward, assessing what to do. They needed water first, blankets, food, then she could start looking for other ailments. Claire fell back to where Eugene was walking. She hadn't noticed O'Connor and Jones had tagged along as well. Based on the amount of men just at the gate and the growing number hobbling down the path coming out of the ramshackle huts.

"Liebgott!" She could hear Dick calling out.

The more men came out, the quicker Claire snapped into action. She went into nurse mode, no longer fully processing the horrors surrounding her.

"Alright boys, spare whatever rations and water you can. These men need care," Claire instructed to the soldiers. She saw Talbert was closest to her, his face as white as a ghost. "Talbert, grab as many blankets as you can." He nodded and then took off to find some.

She turned to her medics. "Eugene, O'Connor, Jones, divide yourselves among the patients. Give them water first, then blankets, and then food. I want you to look for any signs of disease. Any infected wounds, make sure they get sulfa. Do not forget to write up a tag."

"Yes, ma'am," they replied simultaneously.

The camp was littered with dead bodies. Claire could not look at them as she set off to work. Talbert came back with piles of blankets he got from the men and from the trucks. Claire told him to distribute them out as much as he could. Shifty Powers, Grant, Bull, Perconte, and others were helping the medics giving the men water. She moved from patient to patient. Claire tuned out most of the noise around her. She had to concentrate. These men needed her help.

"There you go," she said as she was crouched next to a man and gently making him drink water. Her canteen was running low. "You're okay now."

The man was crying. They were all crying. She'd shut herself down so she could do her job. The man reached up and touched her face. His hands caked in dirt and filth. He looked at her like she was a gift.

"Wunderschöner Engel," the man sobbed. "Wunderschöner Engel… Danke."

"You're welcome," she replied. Claire wasn't sure what the other stuff was, but she knew the last word.

Claire saw something on the man's arm, it was a number… a brand: _07489._

"Lieutenant Rousseau!" Janovec called out. Claire left the man covered with a blanket and had Shifty keep giving a little bit of water at a time to him.

Claire went over to see him. He was standing next to two patients who had sunk to the ground. One of them was holding an older man, whose legs were so thin, she doubted he could stand on his own. He didn't look human anymore.

"Bitte bitte, meinen vater," he pleaded.

Claire crouched down and examined the man. She pulled out her stethoscope from her kit and checked for a heartbeat, but there wasn't one. She stood up and looked at Janovec and shook her head. The other man noticed this and started wailing, clutching the corpse closer to his chest.

"Janovec… who was that man?" Claire asked the young private. She was the distraught and troubled expression on his face. She knew he could understand German.

"His father," he croaked out.

Claire swallowed the lump in her throat and tore her eyes away.

 _Don't think about it. Don't dwell. Do your job._

She kept her composure as she walked over to Dick and Lew.

"We're running out of water," Claire told them. "And they need food. Not K-rations. We need more medical staff too."

"Yeah… okay… I'm gonna go call Colonel Sink," Dick replied distantly. "Find Speirs, we'll figure out how to get them food and water." He walked away, leaving Lew and Claire alone.

"Lew… what is this place?" She finally asked.

"It's a labour camp… no… it's a prison camp."

"What?"

"They're Jews, Claire," he told her. "Jews, gypsies, Poles… put here because of who they are."

She looked at the skeletal men around her. They were trapped, starved, and tortured all because of who they are.

 _Claire, don't think about it. Keep working._

They met up with Speirs and he sent second and third platoon back to town to get food and water. Claire remained at the camp, many of the prisoners were sick. All of them had some sort of infected wound.

Claire was treating man after man, never stopping long enough to think.

"Claire?" She turned to see Eugene next to her treating another man.

"Hm?"

"Can you come look at this?" He asked.

She went over to the man he was caring for.

"What is it?" She asked.

"Look at his leg."

Claire crouched down and looked. She rolled up the pant leg and it revealed a dark purple swollen ankle, puss lingering at the top of the layer of skin.

"Damn…" she cursed under her breath.

"It's broken, right?" He asked. She nodded

"How long has it been broken?" Claire asked the man. He looked at her in confusion. "Uh… how long has it been… uh… ge… gebrochen?"

He looked at her again.

"Did I say it right?" She asked. "Your ankle…" she pointed to his ankle, "how long… gebrochen?"

"Ich weiß es nicht. Bitte hilf mir," he sobbed.

She had no idea what he was saying.

"Gene, it's infected," she told him. "It needs to be drained and the bone properly set. When Wilkes gets here, make sure he sees him."

"Of course," he said.

"Good. Okay, I'm gonna go now," she told him.

"Are you okay?" He asked.

She nodded but didn't say anything.

"Russ!" She heard Grant calling for her. She turned to see him coming towards her. "Lieutenant Rousseau!"

"What is it, Grant?" She asked.

"There are more in the huts," he told her. "They… um… they can't come out."

"Okay," Claire said. "Thanks."

She looked back to where Eugene was and waved him over. She needed help.

 _It's your job. This is what you're here for._

Claire and Eugene walked towards the huts. There were more dead bodies littering the ground. Some had pools of blood around them, others were simply crumpled, broken down. There was smoke billowing from burnt down huts. She walked by O'Keefe, who was sitting in one of the burnt out shells, staring blankly ahead.

 _Later. I'll deal with that later._

The smell in the huts was almost unbearable. It was a mixture of unwashed men, feces, urine, dead rats, and decay. Claire took out her handkerchief and covered her mouth. She pulled out her flashlight and lightened the room. The inside of the hut had two racks lined up on the wall. She could see about a dozen men stuffed in like sardines. A few turned and looked at them. They were coughing, moaning, some were crying.

She forced herself to move forward. Claire handed Gene a spare stethoscope she had in her kit and motioned for him to take the other side. Claire started down and tried to differentiate the living ones from the dead ones. Most of these men couldn't move. She would listen to their heartbeats and make a list in her mind. She wrote up a tag for each of the surviving men and assured them as best she could that someone would come help tend to them.

 _Dead._

 _Dead._

 _Alive._

 _Dead._

 _Alive._

 _Alive._

 _Alive._

They needed medicine and proper medical care. Most of them looked to be on the brink of death. Claire did what she could, but she could only do so much. Her expression remained calm, neutral, completely unfeeling.

Claire had to grab Eugene and they had to move on. He kept looking at her oddly. Claire ignored it as they continued on their way.

The sound of trucks pulling up halted Claire and Eugene's track. Second and third platoon returned with a deuce and a half full of food, and then it was a swarm. The prisoners of the camp pushed and clawed their way up to the front and grabbed food. The patient she was working on got up from the ground and hobbled over. She was watching them scarf down the bread when the realization hit.

"They're gonna eat themselves to death…"

She'd seen diagrams and she knew that the human stomach could only take so much. She knew what a starved stomach would do. Claire spotted Dick and Lew behind the crowd. She ran over to him.

"Dick! Major Winters!" She called out to get his attention. He turned towards her.

"Claire? What is it?"

"Major Winters," Colonel Sink called him.

The trio walked over to Colonel Sink.

"Yes, sir?"

"This is Doctor Kent, Regimental surgeon," Sink introduced. "Doc, tell them what you told me."

"We need to stop feeding these men right now… they're starving."

"What?" Lew questioned in disbelief.

"That's what I was coming to tell you, Dick," she spoke up. "The stomach can only take so much. Give them too much food in one shot and best case is they only get sick. Worst case, stomach bursts and they die. And the worst case is the most likely."

She didn't spare any details. Doctor Kent seemed to noticed she was there and gave her an odd look. He wasn't used to seeing a woman, much less a woman that spoke like she did.

"She's right…" he agreed. "We also need to keep them in the camp until we can find some place better."

 _Wait… what?_

She had a flash of the men laying packed in the huts next to corpses.

"You want to lock these people back up?" Lew said in disbelief.

"We don't have a choice, Nix," Sink replied.

"If we don't they might scatter. We need to supervise their medical treatment and food intake. So, until we find some place better…"

"There has to be a place in town," Claire said. "We can't…"

"It's a crying-ass shame but we have to get it done, Lieutenant Rousseau," Sink interrupted her.

"I don't like it anymore than you guys do," Dr. Kent told them.

Claire walked away from them, fed up with this. The Medical Battalion had arrived. She walked over to them and began giving the doctors the low down. She explained about the huts, how they should clear out the dead bodies to help lessen the spread of disease. She spotted Wilkes among them.

"Captain Wilkes," she called to him. He came over. "We've started triaging for surgical patients. Mostly there are broken bones and infected wounds that will require drainage."

Wilkes stared out at the camp, his expression was one of horror.

"Wilkes?" She snapped to get his attention. He looked back at her. She could see tears brimming his eyes. "Did you hear what I said?"

"Y-Yes…"

"Can you do this?" She asked.

"Yes," he said it more forcefully this time.

"Keep focused on the medical, not everything else," she advised. He nodded. She clapped him on the shoulder before walking away and getting back to work.

* * *

Claire and Easy Company stayed at the camp for another few hours before they were ordered to pull back to town. No one spoke a word on the ride back. Their eyes all looked haunted from what they'd seen.

When they pulled into Lansberg, Claire wordlessly walked up to the apartment she'd claimed as hers and sat down on the couch. She took off her helmet and combed her hands through her hair. She then gripped the medallion around her neck.

Everything hit her at once. The shock of what she'd seen finally set in. Her heart broke, her lungs felt heavy. She could see them coming towards her, their bones protruding out of their skin, their sunken cheeks and their dead eyes.

" _Janovec, who was that man?"_

" _His father."_

She tried to swallow the lump in her throat. She couldn't hold back the tears as they poured from her eyes.

 _My God, how could you let this happen?_

 _07489._

The man had been branded, like he was nothing but cattle.

There were strange painful cries echoing in her room, it took her a while to realize that it was coming from her. She had her head in her hands and she sobbed.

 _A dozen men packed in each rack like sardines._

 _Dead._

 _Dead._

 _Alive._

 _Dead._

"Claire?"

She hadn't heard the door open.

" _Bitte bitte, meinen vater."_

She felt someone put his hand comfortingly on her back. She knew immediately that it was Gene.

She couldn't stop the tears.

 _They're Jews… Jews, Poles, Gypsies…. Put here because of who they are._

 _Why?_

 _Why?_

 _WHY?!_

"Why?" She asked out loud.

She broke again, hot tears rolling down her cheeks.

"I don't know."

He had tears in his eyes. She took his hand in hers.

There wasn't a reason. Not to this.

* * *

 _May 1_ _st_ _1945- Thalem, Germany_

A string quartet played a haunting, melancholy tune in the destroyed town square as locals cleaned the debris from the war. Claire stood in a destroyed room with Webster, Bull, Luz, Liebgott, and Perconte watching them from above. The wall had been blown out leaving the interior exposed.

Claire took out a smoke and put it to her lips. She sat between crumbling pieces of wall, her feet dangling over the side. The krauts sure knew how to clean up, all they needed was a little bit of music. Lew identified the piece as Beethoven, not that it really made a big difference.

They were quiet, all quietly thinking about what they saw. They didn't talk about the camp, at least not out loud. They didn't forget about the walking skeletons. Claire knew she never would.

"Hitler's dead."

At first, Claire thought she'd imagined it. She'd imagined those words coming so many times.

"What?" Luz asked.

"Holy shit," Liebgott said.

"He shot himself in Berlin," Lew told them.

 _Shot himself?_

If she'd ended up in a room with him, she wouldn't have been so kind.

"Is the war over?" Bull asked the question that they were all thinking, hoping.

"No. We have orders to Berghtesgaden. We leave in one hour," Lew informed them.

Claire looked out at the destroyed village.

"Why? The man's not home," Webster spoke. "He should've shot himself three years ago, saved us a whole lot of trouble."

She heard shuffling as the men left the room.

"Yeah he should've… but he didn't."

Claire sat for a little while longer, the strings of the violin played softly. Hitler was dead. He'd tortured millions of souls. He'd caused the death of millions of people. She hoped he was burning in the deepest pits of Hell. But even that would never be enough to make up for the millions of lives he took in those camps, on the battlefields, in the towns and villages.

She got up from the ground, flicked her cigarette out of the husk of the house, dusted off her pants and walked out towards the jeeps as the last melancholic notes of Beethoven ran out.

* * *

 **The Holocaust killed over 11 million people. One of the biggest genocides in the history of mankind. They were innocent people who were murdered because of what they believed and who they were. We vowed never again, yet there is still persecution happening today. There are still people waving around the Nazi flag as though it is nothing. 11 million people were slaughtered because of that flag.**

 **This is why knowing history is important. We have to learn from our mistakes so we don't repeat them.**

 **Never again.**


	24. Lest We Forget

_May 1945- Berghtesgaden, Bavaria_

"I swear I could walk there, have a drink, and get a few hours of shut eye before the damn engineers get here," Claire complained as she laid back down on the hood of the jeep. She was getting antsy simply sitting there.

"When were they supposed to be here?" Liebgott asked.

"Half an hour ago," Perconte answered.

The SS had blocked the roads up to Berghtesgaden to repel the Allies. Now some of the boys were trying to blow up the rubble to clear out the road.

"Two packs of Lucky Strikes say they can't even make a dent," Claire voiced.

"Not taking that bet," Luz countered.

"Easy Company!" They heard Speirs call them.

They were moving out, finding another way to get across. Thank the Lord.

The trek to Berghtesgaden wasn't as difficult as they assumed it would be. Within an hour, they were up and on the road. The town was eerily quiet as she walked down the main cobblestone road. There was not a spec of garbage on the ground, unlike any of the other towns they'd been to. This one was completely untouched by war. White flags hung from the windows and propaganda posters decorated the walls. Most of the residents, it appeared, had fled. This was the one place no one could deny being a Nazi. They had to be to live here.

Claire went with Dick, Lew, Harry, and Ron into the hotel to set it up for Colonel Sink. She walked in, the first thing she saw was a bronze bust of Adolf Hitler. She wanted to push it to the ground, but that would alert anyone left in the hotel.

The only people remaining in the hotel were staff members. One concierge tried to take the guest list away, but he stopped when Lew pointed his pistol, he stopped dead in his tracks. That was as exciting as it got. Claire walked in to find Harry and Dick looting silverware. Ron, notorious for his sticky-fingers, looked at them almost longingly.

"Don't even think about it," Harry told him. "Kitty's gonna love this."

"Don't worry, Ron, I'm sure there's more somewhere around here," Claire assured. She looked and saw beautiful candle sticks. She picked them up and examined them before she stuck them in her musette bag. Looting here was stealing directly from the Third Reich, something she was very glad to do.

"Major Winters," Alton More said from behind them. "Permission to climb the mountain, sir?"

Dick looked at Harry. "Have F Company guard the hotel, set up roadblocks on the west side of town. I want Battalion HQ. Seal off the North, prepare for prisoners… And Harry? No one gets hurt, not now."

Yes, please. She did not feel like watching more men die today.

There was a rip as Ron cut down a Nazi banner.

"And Easy?" He asked

"Easy is going to head up the Obersalzburg… take the Eagle's Nest," Dick said.

Claire grinned at the order.

She followed Ron and More outside the hotel.

"So, just like running up Currahee, right?" Claire remarked as they left the hotel.

"More, grab Malarkey, Grant, Popeye, the rest will follow up after," Ron ordered. More darted off.

"I'm coming," she said firmly, ready to fight him on this.

"Wouldn't want to go up there without a medic," Ron told her. She recoiled in surprise. "You deserve it."

"Well shit, the war must really be ending," she joked. But she knew it was, at least here it was. Hitler was dead and it looked like the krauts didn't have much fight left.

Claire smiled as the two met up with the others.

* * *

The Eagle's Nest was a birthday gift to Hitler built with Nazi Party money. It was a stone mountain top retreat on the border of Bavaria and Austria, accessed only by a gold plated elevator. It was the crowning jewel of his empire.

Hell of a jewel.

The hike up to it would've been long and tiring if Claire wasn't so excited about it. The Eagle's Nest, taking it was one of best ways to spit right in Hitler's dead face.

"HI-YO SILVER!"

Claire laughed as she looked to see the jeeps driving on the road below.

"CURRAHEE!"

"CURRAHEE!" She yelled back.

Ron made Claire stand behind the group of men, not out of disrespect like Sobel had her do years ago, but so that way if there was someone ready to shoot them, she'd be safe. She did not object, seeing as she was the only medic here.

The elegant dining room was eerily empty. Ron motioned for Grant and Popeye to check the passages to the right. Malarkey, Claire, and Ron were checking the main room.

"Claire, stay by me," he instructed. She followed orders.

They walked further down into the room. There was no one there, though it didn't halt the feeling of unease Claire had. She kept waiting for an SS officer to jump out and shoot them both.

They did see an SS officer, but he didn't jump out at them. He was lying on the ground, a bullet in his skull. He was high ranking. That was the only way he would've been granted access to this place.

A loud 'pop' made Claire nearly jump out of her skin as she looked over her shoulder to see Malarkey with a bottle of champagne.

"Here's to him," he said and then took a swing of the bottle. He handed it to Claire and she took a drink.

It was all cleared. They took the Eagle's Nest.

* * *

After exploring the hideout thoroughly, Claire managed to find a few new things to add to her growing collection. More silverware, napkin rings, even a Luger. It wasn't until she reached a bedroom that she found something truly worthwhile… a pocket-watch. Not just any, a gold one. On the inside there was a German inscription, but by the looks of it, it was a gift to Hitler.

"Ain't like you'll be needin' it much. I'm sure there are clocks in Hell," she voiced and stuck the pocket watch in her bag.

She went back down the stairs and found Harry, Ron, and Lew sitting in the lounge chairs drinking Hitler's champagne. She stared out at the breathtaking mountain top view. Never had she seen anything quite like it.

"Ehhhh, if it isn't our lovely nurse!" Lew exclaimed once he saw her. Claire plopped down on the chair next to him. He passed her the bottle of champagne, which she happily took.

"Alright, alright, Claire, I got a joke," Harry said. "Hitler, Hitler… no."

"No no, it's Hitler, Himmler, Goering, Goebbels, and the pope walk into a bar…" Lew corrected.

"Because they drink too much!"

"Yeah, that's how it starts," Harry said excitedly. Claire laughed at the clearly drunk men and drank more of the champagne.

Claire saw Dick and Lip approaching.

"Hey, Adolf! Love your Eagle's Nest," Harry joked. "I hope you don't mind, but we made ourselves at home. Love what you did with the place."

Harry took the bottle from Claire and held it out to Dick.

"Have a drink, just so we can say we've seen you do it," he added.

Dick smirked. "Listen up, from Corps, just came in… 'All troops on present positions standing fast'."

Harry stood at mock attention.

"Wanna hear it?" Dick asked. They all looked at him with a mixture of dread and curiosity. Where would they go now? "Ok… German army's surrendered."

Claire waited for him to say 'Just Joking' but it never came. The feeling of dread dissipated and was replaced by shock. It was over?

Around her, Ron, Harry, Lip, Lew, and Dick were congratulating each other.

As the shock went away, Claire broke into a smile. They did it.

"I got a present for you," Dick told Lew. They left after that.

Claire stood up from her lounge chair and stood at the railing.

"We made it," she said in relief. Then she yelled it at the top of her lungs. "WE MADE IT!" There, at the top of Hitler's Eagle's Nest, the war on the Western Front was over.

* * *

Ten thousand bottles of the finest alcohol helped Easy Company celebrate V-E Day. Claire, of course, tried to stay mostly sober. The operative word was try. After walking around trying to find Eugene, she opted sit on a curb, laughing as she watched the inebriated soldiers walking by. She had a bottle in her hand, one she was not intending on finishing. One that she would inevitably.

They'd hoped and prayed for this day to come. For a long time, Claire never thought it would happen. Three years ago, Claire had lost the most important person in her life. She'd lost the last of her family and believed that her life didn't matter. She thought that if she were to die, she may as well do it trying to save a few people. Three years ago, Claire was alone with no friends or family, now she had both. The men from Easy Company had become a family to her.

They lost a lot of good men. They'd seen the worst of humanity. But they made it here. Despite it all, they persevered, they endured, and they won. Claire did not think about the Pacific front. She did not think about the marines, or the army still fighting and dying at the hands of her brother's killers. That was tomorrow's problem. Tonight, Claire took her bottle of whiskey and took a shot.

"This one's for you," she said and looked up at the sky.

Then she poured a shot in the ground. That one was for all those who weren't around to see this day. For those who died in the frozen wasteland of Bastogne, in the chaos of Normandy, in the mess of Holland, in the concentration camps… all of them.

"There you are." Claire looked back down to see Eugene looking down at her.

"Hey, Gene. Where ya been?" She asked.

"Looking for you," he replied. He took a seat next to her on the curb. She handed him her bottle which he happily drank from.

"We did it," she said with that smile that had not faded away. "We made it."

"We did it." He handed her the bottle once more.

Claire looked into his eyes, they were almost as bright as they had been before D-Day. She could see the darkness still inside them, the same look she'd seen on countless other soldiers, but they looked almost the same. Eugene Roe, her best friend, a man she knew almost better than she knew herself. Claire could stand on her own, she always could, but it was nice not always having to.

"Gene, thank you," she said. "I don't think I woulda made it this far without you."

"I wouldn't've made it without you," he replied.

She shook her head. "You would. You did."

"And you woulda too."

She remembered Holland, the treacherous thought that floated across her mind. The thought that he could die and she would have to go through life without him.

"Good thing I never had to find out," she told him.

They sat quietly for a moment. She took a drink and then handed him the bottle. Their hands lingered on the bottle for a moment.

"Russ! Doc!" Claire and Eugene jumped. She looked up to see Luz, Bull, Babe, Perconte, and Malarkey standing in front of her. "What're you doing down there?"

"Same thing you are, Luz," She replied showing him the bottle which remained gripped in her hand.

"Well c'mon, party's that-a-way," Luz pointed down the road.

"Yeah, you don't hurry, you'll miss all the good hooch," Malarkey added.

"Don't need to tell me twice."

Claire pushed herself up off the ground and then held out her hand and pulled Eugene up to his feet. Then they walked with the others back to one of the houses where many of her friends were. There was plenty of booze to go around. Claire took a seat right next to Malarkey, who was also nursing a bottle.

"Three miles up, three miles down," Claire said as they clanged the bottles together in cheers.

"Hi-yo Silver," Malarkey said and then they each took a long swig.

"Hey, hey, I got another one," More spoke up.

They were exchanging stories, 'remember when's' that they all remembered clearly, but it served as a distraction from all the ones who should be here but were not. In a night of celebration, they remembered the good times, not the moments of heartbreak and terror. Those demons would come back tomorrow.

Not a day went by where they didn't remember the men and women who didn't make it home. Not a day would go by where they would not try and honor that sacrifice.

* * *

 **I publish this chapter today with a heavy heart. Today, Donald Malarkey passed away. He was one of the few (if not the last) remaining member of the original Toccoa men. He was a man who despite all the horrors he witnessed and all the people he lost, he fought his demons. Despite never believing it, Donald Malarkey was a hero. I know he's probably already having a beer with Skip Muck and catching up on all the time they missed.**

 **Rest in peace. Lest we forget.**


	25. It Ain't Over Yet

The next morning, Claire and the rest of Easy Company woke up with terrible hangovers. They reluctantly loaded up the truck, their orders were to leave Berghtesgaden and to go to Austria. They were no longer a combat unit, instead, they became an occupation unit. No one wanted to leave the elegant village, that is until they reached the Austrian countryside.

They drove past surrendered German soldiers, they walked proudly, casting looks over at the shabby and hung-over American's. They must've wondered how these men were the ones that defeated them.

If Claire thought Germany was the most beautiful country she'd ever seen, it was quickly dethroned by Austria. Every inch of the country looked like something out of a fairy tale. The sky was clear blue, the grass perfectly green, it was untouched by war. The mountains were breathtaking. She'd never seen anything quite like it.

"D'you think they'll make us run up those or ski down?" Talbert asked.

The other thing about Austria the boys seemed to like were the abundance of beautiful blonde women. Claire laughed as the men flirted with them.

"Hey! Hi! You're beautiful!" Skinny said as he waved at two blonde girls.

"Trying to find the 'one'?" She asked him.

"The one for tonight," he replied.

Claire rolled her eyes but laughed. "Just make sure to wrap it up."

Riding in the back of that truck with her boys was probably the most at peace she'd felt in a very long time.

* * *

The town of Zell-Am-See was picturesque. Claire met up with Lew, Ron, Dick, Lip, Harry, and the other officers at the large mansion overlooking the large clear blue lake.

"I think we'll be comfortable here," Lew said.

"I'm claiming a room with a view," she declared.

What a view it was. The bed was large, much fancier than any other she'd stayed in. There was a large vanity on the right side of the room. A brown door led out to a balcony overlooking the lake. There were large windows with white curtains decorating them. There was a large mahogany dresser. Another door led to an adjoining bathroom. She had her own bathroom. Standing there, Claire couldn't help but feel low-class. This is the kind of place she imagined some grand duchess to stay, not a tired, dirty army nurse.

She took a bath and scrubbed the grime off of her until she felt clean. She changed into a new, fresh uniform. She bloused her trousers over her boots and then headed out. It was nice not having to put her helmet on. She found Lew, Dick, Harry, and Ron in the study. All of them looked as clean as she did.

"I could get used to this place," Claire said as she walked into the room. "So, what's going on?"

"German Colonel just surrendered. He's on his way in to do it formally," Dick explained. That essentially was Claire's cue to not be around.

"Where's medical being set up? I'm guessing they're not far," she deduced.

"They're setting up in the school in the middle of town," Harry told her.

"Alright, that's where I'll be then," she said before starting to walk away.

"Wait, Claire, before you go there's something we wanted to give you," Lew told her. Claire turned back around and he tossed her a black box. She opened it to reveal the double bars.

"Congratulations, Captain," Dick told her. Claire grinned, the pride swelled in her chest.

She removed the single bar on her collar and replaced it with the new one. She heard the front door open.

"I'll take that as my cue to leave," she said before exiting.

Of course, Eugene was already at the station by the time she got there. They were setting up the post-op room on the west side of the gymnasium with at least twelve cots. Claire saw Wilkes and went over to get the low-down on what they were working with.

"Most we're expecting at this point are sickness and accidents," he explained.

"Alright, then we do shift work," she said. "Day shift and night shift."

"Yes, of course."

"So we've got the surgical ward, post-op, pre-op, and general evac. Where are the men staying?" She asked.

"We took the house next door. Jones's is there now with MacDonald setting up," Wilkes added. "You know; you don't have to help set up."

"Well, I'm not doin' anything else," she shrugged.

"Then come on and help... Congratulations on the promotion, Captain Rousseau."

"Thank you, Captain Wilkes. Feel free to use Doc Roe and me. We are at your disposal."

"Already done. Good thing too. Four of my men were transferred out," he explained. "Which means I'm back to only Jones, O'Connor, Spina, and the replacement MacDonald."

Spina had been with them since Claire went back to Easy Company in Bastogne. It was almost like they did a switch.

"Well, good thing you got us then."

"Got a letter from Carson the other day. Said he's back in the States at some hospital in New York," Wilkes told her.

She hadn't heard anything about Carson in months.

"Good. Is he still…?" She couldn't bear to say the word.

"Paralyzed? Yeah. He doesn't blame you though."

She didn't need to know the last bit, but hearing the reassurance did make her feel a little better.

"Thank you for letting me know," she said. "I'm gonna get to work."

Claire walked away from Wilkes and over to Eugene. He looked at the double bars on her collar.

"Captain, huh?" He questioned.

"Mhm, looks like it," she stated.

"Congratulations," he told her with a smile. "It's about time."

"Thank you," she replied with a warm smile. The promotion was flattering. "So, where are you staying now?"

"With First Platoon," he said. It made sense, Eugene started off in First before he became a medic. "Luz and me are sharing a room."

Suddenly, she felt awfully guilty about having that massive room all to herself.

"Got a bed, shower too. I'm not complaining," he said seemingly sensing how tense she got.

"That's good."

"I wonder what we're gonna do now," Gene pondered.

"We might actually be bored for once," she said. "I think being bored'll be a nice change."

"Yeah," he said somewhat absentmindedly.

"Gene, what's on your mind?" She asked.

"Some of the men and I were talking… d'you think they'll redeploy us to the Pacific?" He questioned.

Claire fluffed the pillow before laying it down on another cot. "I dunno. They might… honestly Gene, you know they don't tell me anything. I'll probably find out when you do."

"The war's still goin' on there," he reminded.

"I'm well aware."

"I hope they don't," he admitted.

"I do to," she added. "Every one of you deserves to get on that big boat home… but, if they do… we'll make it."

Eugene said nothing before nodding. Claire knew that hoping and praying was futile. If they were going to the Pacific, then they were going. There was nothing they could do. Claire had confidence in the men. She knew they could handle Hell.

* * *

 _June 1945_

She'd been right. Barely two days after arriving in Austria, the men were gathered in a room and watched a propaganda film from some place called Okinawa. She watched the screen as the devastating war scenes played on her screen. When they shot footage of a dead soldier, Claire looked away. She knew what death looked like. She didn't need to be reminded about it.

They were being redeployed to the Pacific. At least, that was the rumor that was looking to be true. A points system was introduced, at eighty-five points, soldiers were eligible to be discharged. If they did not, they were heading to another war. The points were awarded based on certain aspects: marital status, combat experience, rank, medals, and wounds. The unfortunate reality was that hardly any of the enlisted men had enough to go home. Not even Toccoa men, not if their only medal was a Purple Heart. The officers did. It was a stupid system in her mind. It wasn't fair.

She and Gene were always paired up to work in the aid station. They alternated with O'Connor, Jones, MacDonald, Spina, and the medics from Fox and Dog companies. Wilkes worked during the day and remained on-call during the night just in case they needed a surgeon. They did four on, four off. Dog had two medics and Fox only had one. Tonight, they were paired with Fox Company's medic, Suarez, and MacDonald. The aid station had been empty for the most part, minus a few cuts and bruises from drunken brawls. A few soldiers got sick. Suarez and MacDonald were fast asleep on cots, Eugene and Claire were still up and playing cards, not for money of course.

"Ace's high," she declared as she dealt the cards.

"How many points do you have?" Eugene asked.

She'd been getting and asking that question a lot the past few days, ever since they announced it, but she'd never asked Gene. They talked about everything and anything else.

"Doesn't matter," Claire shrugged.

"Why?"

"It's different for nurses. When we sign up, it's for the war plus six months. I'm not leaving the men," she explained. She wasn't sure if it was entirely true, but she wanted to stay with her men. "How many do you have?"

She silently prayed he said eighty-five.

"Seventy-eight," he answered. "Guess I'm staying too."

She felt her heart sink.

"This entire thing is ridiculous. You deserve to go home."

"So do you."

 _What home?_ She thought to herself.

"I don't know if I want to be a surgical nurse anymore," she admitted. She slid two cards from her hand. "Two."

She picked up the new ones and mentally sighed. These one's weren't all that great either.

"What?" He asked.

"I've been thinking about it quite a bit since you asked me… I don't think I can go back to it," she continued.

"You love it, don't you?"

"I did… I do… but I dunno. I think I've seen enough traumatic surgeries for a lifetime," she replied. "Back in Bastogne when Wilkes was busy… sometimes I had to do the surgery. Never something too complicated but… holding a man's life in your hands... If they died, it was _me_ that killed them."

"You never told me that," he stated.

"You saw how bad it got. I did what I could, but it wasn't always enough. The calls that I made… Melville and Renée…"

"It wasn't your fault."

She would always have that guilt in her heart. "I still want to help people, but I want to do it another way."

"Change can be good," he said.

"What do you want to do after it's over?" She asked. He looked slightly caught off guard by the question. "You asked me before but I never did the same. Seems safer to ask now, don't you think? So, what d'you want to do?"

"I… probably work in construction," he shrugged. "I've always like building things. Did it all the time as a kid."

"What did you build?" She asked curiously. She didn't know this about him.

"Before the floods, we used to have this playhouse in the yard, but it got swept away. When we moved to Morgan City… my sister stayed cooped up inside the house all the time, so I helped my father build her another one," he explained fondly. She didn't hear about his family often, only on occasion, just as he didn't hear much about hers.

"What about a wife?" She asked. "I mean… you asked if that's what I wanted… d'you want that too?"

"Mhmm," Eugene answered. "I wanna get married. Have a family."

For a brief moment, Claire imagined Eugene as a father and a husband. He'd be good at both, she knew that. Eugene was the kind of man who would love completely unconditionally. Never trying to change them.

It was the kind of man she wanted.

What?

"There's gotta be a way to get you enough points," she stated quickly changing the subject and pushing the thought out.

"It's alright, Claire," he assured. "A lot of men got it worst than me… Shifty's missing fifteen."

"Shifty's been in every campaign… How is he missing fifteen?" She asked.

"Was never wounded," Gene explained. "Some guys are missing two, three… others ten."

"I feel guilty… I've got enough but I'm not going anywhere," she told him. "But then there's good men like Shifty… like you… who should be back home instead of here."

"Maybe we won't even go," he told her. "Maybe we'll get lucky."

Claire scoffed. "When have we ever been lucky?"

"Well… we're both alive. That's pretty lucky," he shrugged.

"You're right."

"It'll be a year tomorrow since Normandy," Eugene told her. A year? Was that all?

"Feels like it's been a decade," Claire huffed.

"I fold," he said. She'd forgotten they were playing cards.

* * *

A day later, long after their night shift at the aid station had been finished, Claire and the rest of Easy Company were gathered for a ceremony in commemoration of D-Day. She stood in front of the stage on Ron's right. She remained in the attention position until Ron said 'at ease'.

"General Taylor is aware that many veterans, including Normandy veterans still do not have the points required to be discharged," Ron spoke. "On this, the anniversary of D-Day, he has authorized a lottery to send one man home from every company effective immediately."

Claire tried to keep her smile at bay. She knew that this lottery was not exactly random. In fact, when Claire went to go see Ron, Harry, and Dick after she finished at the aid station to talk about the points system and how they could try to work around it, they worked a way to help their men.

"For Easy Company, the winner is: serial number 13066266, Sergeant Darrell C. Powers."

There were hoots and cheers from the men. Claire smiled brightly. Shifty Powers had saved the lives of everyone in Easy Company on a few occasions. In Bastogne, he saw an 88 cannon that no one else could see because he spotted a tree that wasn't there the previous day. In Foy, he took out the sniper that almost killed her.

With fifteen points to go, Shifty Powers was going home.

The good news was cut short however by Ron announcing the thing they were all dreading. The 101st Airborne was being redeployed to the Pacific. Starting tomorrow morning, they were beginning to train for another war.

* * *

"Make sure you stay off that ankle," Claire advised O'Keefe as she finished wrapping his ankle. He'd twisted it while doing PT that morning. It was a bad sprain, it was dark purple and blue. "I'm serious. It'll make it worst if you push it too far."

"Yes, ma'am," he said.

"And if Lieutenant Peacock gives you any trouble, you tell him to come see me," she ordered. When Peacock returned from his furlough, he became an even bigger jerk. "I've got some crutches."

"Thank you, ma'am," he replied.

She got him the crutches and gave them to him. "Get some rest."

O'Keefe hobbled out of the aid station Claire huffed and sat the nearest cot. She pulled out her pack of smokes and took one out for herself and brought it to her lips. She lit it and inhaled.

"Captain Rousseau?"

Claire looked up to see Shifty Powers. She knew he was starting the long trip home today.

"Shifty, hi… all ready to go?" She asked.

"Yes ma'am, got all my paperwork done. Got all my loot," he answered. "I just wanted to thank you."

"Shifty, you don't need to. I should be thanking you for saving me back in Foy. I'm happy you're going home."

"I don't rightly know how I'm gonna explain everything…" He drifted off.

"You don't have to," she told him. "Not if you don't want to."

He pondered over it for a moment. Claire got up from the cot and held out her hand. Shifty grasped it and they shook hands.

"Good luck, Shifty."

"Good luck to you."

Then Shifty left. She would find out later that his truck, which was taking him towards a train and then a boat home, but he was hit on by a head on collision. He lived but he broke his pelvis, his arm, and had a bad concussion. He would spend months in a series of hospitals, he wouldn't make it home until long after she did.

* * *

 **One thing I would like to specify before the rest of this note, I know Spina was not transferred out of Easy. I know he remained there until the end of the war. I took a few creative liberties since, especially in the show, he is not mentioned after Bastogne. Typically, each company had two medics and so it made sense that Spina wouldn't be there because Claire is.**

 **Please let me know what you thought about this chapter. Thank you to those who reviewed! The war in Europe may be over but there is still a lot of story left to go. Also currently working on Eleanor's story, I hope you guys will read that as well. I'm not too far but I'm gaining momentum on it.**


	26. Long Way From Home

Claire would never get tired of the view. She was sitting outside the large mansion on the large steps next to Lew and Harry. Dick walked up and leaned on the railing.

"I've made up my mind," Harry spoke after a moment. "I've got the points; I'm going home to Kitty."

"Harry, don't you think Kitty's run off with some 4-F by now?" Lew teased.

"Son of a Bitch, that's not even funny," Harry said smirking. He knew that Lew was joking.

"Nah, she's waiting for you. If it's real, she won't give up on it," Claire assured.

"Didn't realize you were such a romantic Claire," Lew spoke.

"I'm full of surprises," she said. "But, Harry, in the end, it's up to you. Go or stay… your choice."

"How can I tell that I skipped the chance to come home so that I can go jump on Tokyo?" Harry asked.

"So don't tell her. She's waited for you for two years. We'll be to Tokyo and back in two years, three at most," Lew replied.

"Such a man answer," Claire mumbled under her breath. No one heard her.

"You know, it'll be over before you even get there," Harry countered. "Truth is, you'll be here for six months waiting here and I'll be back in Wilkes-Barry making babies."

"A mental image I really didn't want," Claire stated teasingly.

"You haven't told them?" Dick asked Lew.

"Told us what?" She asked cautiously.

"Couldn't get them to shut up long enough."

"Tell us what?!" Claire urged.

"Guts and Glory applied for a transfer," Lew answered.

"You did what?" She asked in disbelief.

"The 13th Airborne is heading out to the Pacific right away," Dick explained. "If I'm going, I want to get it over with."

"You're leaving?" She repeated.

"Are you in on this?" Harry asked Lew.

"I can't let him go by himself. He doesn't know where it is," Lew answered.

Suddenly, the air around her felt tight.

"Both of you?" She asked in an low voice. "You're leaving the men?"

"They don't need me anymore," Dick stated.

Yes, they do. Of course they do.

Nothing ever came of the transfer. It disappeared almost as quickly as it came. It was a small moment of panic that was unnecessary. Dick and Lew would be staying with the 506th. Dick would continue to watch over soldiers with no enemy to fight and an abundance of alcohol. Needless to say, the injuries Claire had to deal with were from the numerous drunken scuffles that broke out between the men.

* * *

Claire rode in the front of the ambulance next to McGuire. They received the call about five minutes ago and they were almost at their destination. Just ahead she saw the crashed jeep in the ditch. The driver pulled up and Claire hopped out. Webster was there holding a bandage to Private Janovec's shoulder.

"McGuire, check on the driver," she ordered. He moved quickly.

Claire ran over to Janovec. She knew immediately from the twisted angle of his neck that he was dead. It must've snapped in the crash.

"Webster, you can take your hand off his shoulder," she told him softly. Webster looked down at her, sadness upon the realization that he'd been trying to save a dead man. "Go grab the stretcher from the ambulance. McGuire, how's the driver?"

"Unconscious but…" He was caught off by the driver coughing. "Shit."

Claire ran around the jeep and the driver was coughing out blood, a lot of blood. He'd hit the steering wheel and by the looks of it, broke his ribs.

"Webster! I need the stretcher now!" She barked.

Webster and the ambulance driver returned with two stretchers.

"Drop one. He's the priority," she ordered. They listened and came running to her. "McGuire, we need to make this quick and gentle." He nodded. "On three. One, two… now!"

They lifted the driver up onto the stretcher. He was still making choking noises and coughing up blood.

"Webster, I'll take over for you. You and McGuire get Janovec on the other stretcher," she ordered. "MOVE!"

She took the handles from Webster and she and the ambulance driver brought the patient to the ambulance. Webster and McGuire followed behind with Janovec's body.

"Webster up front," she barked. He did as she ordered.

Once they were all in, the driver put the ambulance in drive and they took off down the road. The driver made choking noises, the blood streaming out of his mouth.

"The rib must've punctured a lung," she deduced. He was choking on his own blood. By the chevrons on his sleeve, she could tell he was a Corporal. "You're going to be alright, Corporal. Just stay with me."

Claire knew she was lying to him. She'd lied to many dead men before.

The corporal looked at her with sad fearful eyes. He studied her, like the last thing he wanted to see was an American woman. She gave him the best smile she could, hoping that she made his last thought a good one.

His breath was coming out in wheezes while more blood dribbled down his cheeks, until finally nothing. His body went slack, with his glazed eyes wide open.

Numb, Claire closed his eyes and then took off his tag. Jack Stevens. The war is over here, but she was still watching men die.

When they pulled up to the aid station, Ron and Wilkes were there. Claire put on that same tough mask she always did and climbed out of the ambulance, fully aware that her uniform was once again spattered with blood.

"What's the status?" Wilkes asked.

"Two dead," she answered keeping herself cool, calm, and collected. She'd rolled out Janovec's stretcher to show Ron. "Corporal Jack Stevens died from his wounds in the ambulance and Private Janovec…"

She was cut off by Dick running up.

"What happened?" Dick asked.

"Private Janovec was dead when we got there," She finished informed them. She covered Janovec's pale face with a blanket.

"Seventy-five points," Webster said in a low voice. Only Claire seemed to have heard. Oh God.

"What?" Ron asked.

"He was ten points short," Webster elaborated.

The war was over. The death was supposed to stop, at least for now. Claire kept the steely expression on her face. She didn't know Janovec all that well, but he was one of their men. He was young, had a whole life ahead of him. Corporal Stevens wasn't from Easy, she didn't know him, but he had one of the safest jobs in the damn army and even that wasn't enough. How would their parents deal with knowing that their sons were killed when it was supposed to be peacetime?

Ten points.

They'd done enough haven't they?

* * *

Claire was leaving the aid station feeling more dejected than she had before. It had only been a week since the announcement that the 101st was going to the Pacific. In that time, Janovec had died, Corporal Stevens had died, and she'd heard about Shifty's accident. It seemed like some sort of grim omen of what was coming for them in Tokyo.

On her walk back to the mansion, a new clean uniform on her back, Claire bumped into Eugene, Luz, Malarkey, Talbert, and Liebgott.

"Hey, Russ, where're you headed?" Luz asked.

"Back to my room to get some shut eye," she answered.

"We're heading down to the lake. Gotta take free time when it comes," Malarkey explained.

"You should come," Eugene suggested.

"Yeah. None of us've seen much of you lately," Luz stated. He was right, Claire was spending a lot of her time at the aid station. She saw them in training, but given Claire's new rank, she wasn't required to do much of the physical training. She wasn't sure how having the Captain rank would change things. "Well… Doc has."

The last bit made Claire involuntarily redden. Why are you doing that?

"I could use a stroll," she agreed.

They walked down to the lake silently. She knew they would've heard about Janovec by now. Claire, however was not going to bring it up unless they did.

She sat at the edge of the very long dock, her feet dangling over the edge. She was sandwiched between Luz and Eugene. Talbert was off to the side with Malarkey and Liebgott next to him.

It was a warm beautiful day. She still hadn't gotten used to the absolutely breathtaking mountain view. The crystal blue water sparkled in the sun. The bayou and the swimming hole back home were brown. The ocean they crossed two years ago was a dark blue. She'd never seen water like this.

"Ten points, can you believe that?" Luz finally broke silence. "He was missing ten points and now he's dead. Christ, yesterday I was at the checkpoint and some fucking Kraut soldier comes through because he's discharged. He gets to go home, and we're stuck here waiting to go to another goddamn war."

"Yeah, all he had to do was lose," Malarkey agreed bitterly. "Meanwhile our guys are still dying."

Damn points.

Claire stared out at the water, drifting back to the dark place she visited often. Janovec's lifeless face drifted across her mind. The thought about Corporal Stevens coughing up blood and dying slowly and painfully. They were more names on Claire's endlessly long list of the dead.

Meehan.

 _Quinn._

 _Green._

 _Richardson._

 _Evans._

 _Melville._

 _Lémaire._

 _Sowosko._

 _Webb._

 _Milton._

 _Hoobler._

 _Penkala._

 _Jackson._

 _Janovec._

 _Stevens._

 _Muck…_

And too many more.

Claire felt Eugene's hand on top of hers. She looked over into his puzzled brown eyes.

Are you okay? His eyes seemed to ask.

I'm okay. She responded with a small nod a small smile on the corners of her mouth.

She didn't move her hand and neither did he.

"…have, Russ?" She caught the tail end of the question. She looked away from Eugene, he moved his hand back.

"Hm?" She asked.

"How many points do you have?" Liebgott asked. "You've gotta have enough."

She hesitated. She didn't want to tell them that she had enough, but was choosing to stay. She was an officer, but she wasn't like the other ones. It wasn't like if Ron or Dick went home, they were leaders. The men needed them. She was a nurse. She wasn't the one leading them into battle.

"Doesn't matter," Claire told them with a shrug.

"You have enough?"

"Nurses remain on duty for the whole war plus six months," Eugene explained for her. "Don't get early discharge."

"Not unless you're wounded or killed," she added. "Just like soldiers." Her mind drifted back to Eleanor. She hadn't let herself think about her friend for a long time.

Just another name on a casualty list.

"Jesus…"

"Army needs nurses," she shrugged. "We're valued assets, I guess. And, except for me, aren't many who are in the direct line of fire. The closest they get is in a field hospital."

Not many of the soldiers truly understood the role of nurses in the war, not unless they actually saw them in action.

"All I can say is, I'll be glad when all this is done," Talbert spoke.

"Here, here," Luz agreed.

She couldn't agree more.

They sat quietly. She knew they were all thinking the same thing: Why can't I go home? Three years was a long time to be gone. She couldn't imagine what it was like for them. They had families, sweethearts, lives waiting for them. Despite being in this beautiful place surrounded by mountains and crystalline water, it didn't compare to being home. She'd take her house in Breaux Bridge surrounded by her family any day, even if it had been six years since it was destroyed.

It was a melancholy feeling. No one wanted to go back to war. Certainly not to one that would take them even further from home.

"We should go back," Talbert voiced. "It's almost chow time."

"Yeah, wouldn't want to miss eating dried up spuds once again," Liebgott replied sarcastically.

"Maybe the hunting party got something good," Claire said optimistically. Though she doubted it. They got up from the dock and started on the trek back.

* * *

A few days later, about a week and a half after the initial announcement, Claire was sitting on the steps overlooking the lake. The sun was just starting to set, streaks of pink and orange coloured the fading blue sky. She had her journal in her hand currently detailing every single thing about the scenery to James. He would've loved it here, not to live but maybe to visit. James had always been comfortable living in Breaux Bridge. Had it not been for the fire that destroyed their home and took their father, James would've grown old there. He never wanted to join the military, but he had no choice. Then he found another home, more comfort, and then it was too late.

"Claire."

Claire's gaze left the description of the mountains and she looked up to see Lew peering down at her. She couldn't help but notice how he, Ron, Dick, and Harry had been avoiding her all day.

"Lew," she replied. "So, why've y'all been avoiding me all day?"

Lew plopped down next to her, though he was still a considerable distance away. He handed her a piece of paper. Claire knew almost immediately what it was. Reassignment papers.

"They're sending me back stateside," she said in disbelief. She shook her head and folded the paper in half. "No, I'm not going anywhere. There's still a war going on."

"Claire… this is non-negotiable," he broke it to her. "The order comes straight from General Taylor. Brass doesn't want to risk sending a woman to battle in the Pacific."

"Didn't stop them from sending Eleanor," Claire replied harshly.

"Yeah, and look at how that turned out," he responded. "The Japs don't respect Geneva Conventions; you'd have a bright red target painted on your head."

"So will any other medic," she pointed out.

"Claire… I didn't want to tell you this but… you're the only one that made it."

She stopped. "What?"

"Out of the three nurses sent to the line, you're the only one still alive. The other one was killed in Manila back in February," he explained.

Claire took in a sharp breath.

"You're the last one."

"You agree with the order, don't you?" She deduced.

Lew remained quiet for a beat.

"I want you to be safe," he finally said. "We all want you to be safe."

"Don't you think I want that for all of you?" She asked harshly. She was angry, more than angry, she was furious. "There are men who want to go home but can't, send one of them. Not me."

"There's no talking your way out of this one," Lew told her. "You've done your job. No one can tell you otherwise. You've gone further than anyone expected. But you know as well as I do that orders are orders."

And she did know. She hated this. She hated this and all she wanted to do was yell at General Taylor until she was blue in the face, but she'd been around long enough to know that it would do nothing.

"When do I leave?" She asked still unable to look at him.

"Tomorrow, eleven-hundred."

So soon?

There was no way of getting out of this.

"You'll take a boat from France to England and then fly to New York with some of the patients that are being transferred," he continued explaining.

She swallowed the lump in her throat.

"Who knows?" She asked.

"Sink, obviously, but in the battalion it's just me, Dick, Speirs, and Harry."

"And you drew the short straw, huh?"

"Coin toss actually," he replied jokingly. Claire frowned.

"How can I leave you?" She asked. "How can I be safe back home while you're all off fighting Japs?"

"Trust me, Claire, they want you safe just as much as I do."

She didn't want to be safe. She didn't want to go home. She wanted to be with her boys, her family. But Lew was right, orders were orders. She couldn't talk herself out of this one. Her war, which really started on December 7th 1941 in New Orleans, was ending in Zell Am See in June 1945. She would remain in the Army Nurses Corps, but she wouldn't be on the line anymore.

"I wish I could say I'm sorry about this but I'm not. You can't see it now, but this is a good thing."

"The only good thing would be if the Japs surrendered tomorrow and we could all go home," she said bitterly.

"Wouldn't that be a treat," he replied.

The news weighed heavily on her shoulders. She hated this. She hated it more than being moved in Bastogne. Easy Company had already lost most of the original Toccoa men. Claire had been with them for three years. They were her family. It was terrifying to think that she would have to go through this without them.

* * *

 **I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Please, let me know what you think.**


	27. Brothers in Arms

She was leaving.

Claire left Lew behind and started walking around the town.

The longer she walked, the more she thought about her friends.

From the beginning, there had been Dick and Lew. They were her first friends. Dick, with his wisdom and leadership helped build Easy Company. He was the kind of man who inspired people, with two words 'follow me' he got men up and moving. He inspired her to be better. She remembered Carentan how he stood in the middle of the road during a firefight getting men out of the ditches. It was one of the moments that really solidified Dick as the leader they needed.

Easy Company had great leaders in most of their officers, others not so much. Ronald Speirs was one of the best. He saved Easy Company in its hour of need. His leadership echoed Dick's in many ways but it was the differences that made him great. Ronald Speirs was intimidating. The rumors about him, though exaggerated, still had some truth to them. In the heat of everything, it was normal to make snap calls. Ron's snap decisions were always to benefit the men.

Claire thought about Buck. She remembered that bright and lively man who chased the girls in Brighton. She thought about how often they would play cards in the hospital, laughing, talking about anything that wasn't war. Then she remembered him breaking down on that log in Bastogne. In that moment, Claire realized something very important, even the strongest of people can break. They were all devastated to lose him. According to his letters, he was doing better now.

Lip and Harry were two of her closest friends. Harry was constantly making her laugh. He'd carried around his reserve chute for a month after D-Day in order to send it back to Kitty because silk was rationed. The love he had for her often made Claire envious.

After Dick moved up to Battalion XO, Lip was the leader of Easy. He was always the one who took care and looked after the men. He kept them together, kept morale up. Claire would often believe they would make it because he believed they would.

Claire, though she was incredibly angry with him at the moment, thought about Lew. He became an older brother to her. They bickered but they protected each other. She wasn't sure when or how it happened, but she loved him. There was not a moment in this war she wasn't grateful for him.

Claire found her way to the mess hall. It was already full when she got in. She wasn't all that hungry, but she had to walk around. She saw them, her boys, scattered around the tables. Most of the Toccoa guys were sitting together. There was laughter as one of them, Luz most likely, cracked a joke. Her eyes drifted over every single one of them. Liebgott, Malarkey, Perconte, Bull, Grant, Talbert… all of them. They'd come so far since trying to trip her in the obstacle course and making bets on when she'd flame out. Bull had saved her life back in Bois Jacques. She probably would've died if she'd left that foxhole when she wanted to. She knew most of them for three years, but others, like Babe, she met later but she cared about them just the same.

Every single one of them, Claire had seen them change. She watched as they became men. She knew that if they were given the chance, every single one of them would accomplish great things. She was proud to have gotten the chance to know them.

Luz noticed her standing there and beckoned her over. What started off as a dislike soo evolved into a friendship. Luz was one of Claire's best friends. They shared foxholes, huddled together for warmth. He dragged her away from a firefight in Holland and again during the shelling in Bastogne. She killed a man who was trying to kill him. He always knew how to make her laugh; his Sobel impression was her personal favorite. Needless to say, they had each others backs.

 _Who's gonna make sure they don't do anything stupid when I'm gone?_

Her boys… she couldn't imagine her life without them. Even in her weeks of solitude at the hospital in England and then the time she spent in Bastogne, she at least got to see some of them. This was different. She wasn't coming back this time. She was going alone.

She laughed as Luz did a spot on impression of Dike.

Claire could always find Eugene in the crowd. He sat down the table across from her next to Talbert. He had one of his smiles that made his entire face light up. She always loved his smile, they became rare during the war. She noticed a change in him as well, before he used to pull away from the others, but not anymore.

She recalled their first meeting back at Toccoa. He'd been in the crowd of enlisted men that very first day but she hadn't seen him. Then came medic training. She remembered he was quiet, reserved around her. Originally, she'd broken the ice between them by asking him where he was from. She knew immediately by his accent that he was from Louisiana. And that was it. What started off as a mutual partnership developed into friendship. Gene was the one person she could always count on. No matter how bad things got, she always knew it would be okay because he was there. He quickly became her closest confidant. Throughout everything, they were there for each other. She didn't want to imagine her life without him in it.

Eugene Roe… never met a man like him before.

He was her best friend… but he was more than that. She couldn't quite explain it.

 _I don't want to leave him._

She didn't want to leave any of them.

Soon, Grant left because he was driving his men over to relieve the check point. Then Eugene reminded her that they had to go to the aid station. She'd forgotten about her shift.

"We'll see you later," Eugene said as he and Claire got up from the table.

She swallowed the lump in her throat. She would be leaving right in the middle of PT. She wouldn't get the chance to say goodbye.

I hate this.

She didn't say a word the whole walk to the aid station and then while they were sitting inside. When they weren't playing cards, they would read, or write letters, or talk. Tonight, however, Claire couldn't bring herself to do anything. She kept thinking about tomorrow.

"Claire, what's wrong?" Eugene asked after about an hour of silence. He knew something was up, of course he knew. He always did.

She took a deep breath. She had to tell him. "Eugene, I…"

"MEDIC!" The familiar cry interrupted them.

Claire and Eugene snapped into action as two replacements from Easy came in carrying a soldier with his head bandaged.

"Put him up here," she ordered. She saw his face clearly, it was Grant.

But I just saw him.

"Suarez, go get Wilkes," she ordered. He took off. Claire looked at one of the replacements. "You… Red," she didn't know his name but he had red hair. "Go find Captain Speirs and First Sergeant Talbert!"

Red took off. Claire assessed the wound, gunshot to the head. Straight through and through.

"Eugene, get the whole blood," she told him calmly. She checked his dog tag. "AB negative." Grant's eyes were shut but his chest was rising and falling. "Not tonight, Chuck. Don't do this tonight. What happened?"

"W-We were driving and…" He stuttered slowly.

"Give me the highlights, Sunny," she cut him off.

"Some guy shot him," he sputtered. "Is he… is he going to die?"

"Not if I have a say in it," she said in a determined tone. "Eugene, how're you comin' along with that blood?"

"Got it!" He yelled as he came running back.

Ron, Talbert, and Wilkes came in just as Eugene was putting in the line for the blood.

"What do we got?" Wilkes asked.

"Gunshot to the head," Claire explained. "Sunny tell them what happened."

Claire moved over to let Wilkes assess. Ron was holding Grant's hand as the young replacement explained that they were coming back from the checkpoint when they came across a drunken soldier who'd shot and killed a German and a British Major. When Grant tried to stop him from leaving, the soldier shot him and then ran.

"He's not gonna make it," Wilkes finally said.

No.

"What? You can't operate on him?" Eugene asked.

"Not on his head."

Of course. She was so incredibly dense. Wilkes was a general surgeon.

"If we find a brain surgeon, what are his chances?" Claire asked.

"Not great," he answered honestly.

"Not great means there's still a chance and that's good enough for me," she retorted. She looked up at Ron. He knew what she was thinking.

"Talbert, I want the shooter found alive."

"We gotta move," she told Ron. "Gene, keep the blood flowing."

He nodded and Claire grabbed one end of the stretcher and Ron grabbed the other.

"What are you doing?" Wilkes asked.

"Going to find a brain surgeon," she answered.

They ran out of the aid station and to the first jeep they saw. Talbert went running off back to barracks. Eugene stayed in the backseat, keeping the bottle of blood elevated so it kept flowing. Claire sat in the front as Ron drove.

They found a brain surgeon. The hospital said this was where he lived. Ron parked in front of his house and went up with his pistol raised. They might be at peace, but that didn't mean anyone trusted the krauts. Ron shoved the man towards them.

"Get in," he ordered.

"What happened to him?" The surgeon asked in a thick German accent looking at Grant.

"Shot in the head," Eugene explained.

"Half hour ago," Ron added. He nudged the man with the gun.

"If you want him to live, help me. First by putting that away," the surgeon snapped.

"Put the gun down, Speirs," Claire urged. She looked at the surgeon with pleading eyes. "Please, he's a good man. He's our friend. Please… Help us."

Ron hesitated for a moment and then holstered his gun. He went to go to the driver's seat when the surgeon stopped him.

"Let me drive. We'll get there faster."

Claire looked back at Grant and knew that his window was rapidly closing.

"Do it," Claire agreed. She hopped over and sat on the back and held Grant's hand.

The surgeon didn't want to call in a German nurse, he was already apprehensive about helping them out. Claire volunteered to be the nurse. Ron and Eugene waited in the room. She assisted as the surgeon repaired the damage caused by the bullet. He said they were lucky, if Grant had gone without treatment for an hour more, he wouldn't have been able to pull back. In the end, the surgeon did all he could.

"He's strong. He'll live," the surgeon declared.

There was a collective sigh of relief. Once he got the news that Grant would live, Ron took off back to camp leaving Claire and Eugene behind.

"Thank you," Claire said. She reached in her pocket and pulled out the gold pocket watch she looted from The Eagles Nest. "Here… It's the least we can do."

The surgeon shook his head.

"The war is over, miss. I am a doctor; he was my patient. German, English, American… we all bleed the same," he brushed it off. The words stuck with her. They would stick with her for the rest of her life.

"He needs to remain here at least for tonight," he explained.

"Can he be evacuated tomorrow?" She asked.

"Not tomorrow… a few days."

"Good. Thank you again."

The surgeon left after that.

They waited until Grant was moved to a room and was being looked after that they started back down the road. Everything that happened made Claire very briefly forget that she was leaving tomorrow.

"Gene… there's something I have to tell you," she finally said. How was she going to say this? "I… I'm leaving."

Eugene stopped walking. They stood in the middle of the sidewalk. "What? When?"

"Tomorrow… eleven-hundred," she answered. "I've been reassigned to be head nurse at a hospital in New York. Brass doesn't want to send a woman to Japan… not after the other two… they didn't make it."

"Both of them?" Eugene asked. He was closer now, only a few inches apart.

"Yeah…"

"I'm sorry…"

"Me too."

"Now they're sending you away."

"It isn't the first time they've tried," she admitted. "Back in Holland, after I was wounded they tried but I wouldn't let them. I think they tried in Bastogne too, but I turned it down. Now… they're not giving me a choice."

"Why'd you turn it down?" He asked.

"Because I couldn't leave you. I wouldn't," she told him, staring deep into his dark eyes. Her heart was pounding, but in a good way. It was the feeling she got on V-E Day looking at him. The feeling she always got around him.

"Eugene, I…"

Eugene cut her off by gently pressing his lips against hers. She didn't move at first, unsure of what to do. Then she leaned into him, deepening the kiss. It was as if the world around them melted away. In that moment, Claire was not leaving, there was no jump on Tokyo, Grant had not been shot… there was only them. Claire draped her arms around his neck, pulling him in closer. It felt right, more right than it ever should've. Claire wasn't sure when it happened, but somewhere along the way her feelings for him changed. Or maybe they hadn't changed. Maybe she'd always felt this way but she never let herself think like that.

Eventually, they had to break apart. They stood looking at each other, completely breathless.

"I've been waiting to do that for three years," Eugene admitted. Claire laughed, her arms still looped around him.

"Eugene Roe… never met a man like you before," she finally voiced.

Then, they kissed again. This time, the kiss was passionate, longing. Three years is an awful long time to deny feelings. It was him, it had always been him.

In the best moments of her life, Claire ranked this kiss in her top five. Never before had she felt this way, warm and tingly… happy. Completely and utterly happy. The feeling was foreign to her. Until then, she couldn't remember what being happy felt like.

But that happiness was marred by the realization that she was leaving. She couldn't keep the tears at bay anymore as they broke apart once more.

"I don't want to go," she said tearfully, "not without you. If something happens…"

She couldn't even speak the words.

"We're gonna be okay," he assured. "I'm gonna be okay."

She let him go and then touched the medallion around her neck. She slipped it off and handed it to him. His hands wrapped around hers.

"Take it, it'll keep you safe," she told him. The very same words her mother told her father when they parted during the last war. "You keep your head down. Be careful… Promise me you'll come back, that this isn't the end."

"I promise," he told her.

"I hate this. I hate leaving you."

"I know," he said. "It's selfish, but I don't want you to go… We should get back. You need tell them."

She didn't want to. She wanted to remain here, in this moment, with Eugene forever. But unfortunately, she knew that life didn't work that way. Good moments became good memories.

They walked back to camp, standing a little further apart. No one could know what had happened between the two of them. She was still an officer; he was still an enlisted man. There were strict non-fraternization rules, especially where she was concerned, but tomorrow, she would no longer be in the Airborne. She would be an army nurse. After the war, she would simply be a nurse. Then the army wouldn't have control over who she could be with.

When they made their way back, Claire saw there was a group of them waiting. It was made up almost entirely of Toccoa men and some replacements. She assumed they were waiting for details about Grant.

"Grant's fine," she assured. "He'll be good to evacuate…"

"Is it true?" Luz asked. "You leaving?"

"Who told you?" She questioned. How could they have found out so quickly? Ron… It must've been.

"So it's true," Malarkey deduced.

"Yes, it's true," she replied, "I'm being transferred back stateside."

There was a silence among them.

"When do you leave?" Luz asked breaking it.

"Tomorrow morning… eleven-hundred," she said.

Another silence. She had to say something to these men. She didn't think she could say goodbye to them. Not yet.

"It's late and you all have PT early," she reminded them. "Now go on, it's been a long night. I will see you all in the morning."

She turned, her eyes meeting Eugene's and gave him a tiny smile, and walked out of the barracks.

When she made it back to the mansion, Claire walked up to her room. She couldn't go to sleep. Instead, Claire went out on her balcony and sat on the chair. There was no moon tonight. The only time she'd ever seen the stars' shine so brightly was in Normandy. She remembered it was in Carentan, she and Gene were talking about home, the night she talked about her mother, she could see the stars through the trees. Tonight, they shined like little diamonds. It was hard to believe that a fisherman's daughter from Louisiana, an orphan, a nurse, could've ended up in a house like this overlooking a beautiful lake surrounded by mountains.

She couldn't swallow her tears anymore as Claire cried. She cried every single tear she'd pushed back from the last year. She cried for every man that she couldn't save. She cried for her boys who should be at home.

She didn't want to leave, but she knew she had too, and despite it all, she knew they would make it without her. But she wondered who she would be without them.

"There you are…" Claire wiped her tears as Lew pulled up a chair next to her.

"What're you doing here?" She asked.

"Thought we could have drink, we both need it," he answered. She noticed a bottle of whiskey from Hitler's cellar.

"You have no idea."

He opened the bottle and took the first drink before handing it off to her.

"This ended badly the last time if I remember correctly," she said before taking a drink from the bottle. "Remember the first time we did this?"

"Just before Normandy. You were panicking."

"I wouldn't say I was panicking."

"You re-read the field manual so many times, I was learning it just by standing next to you," he countered.

"Well, can you blame me? I didn't want to freeze up."

"And you didn't."

"How many times have we done this?" Claire asked.

"Whenever you needed it," he replied. She gave him a sad smile.

She took another drink. "I'm sorry I got mad at you earlier."

"Hey, you think it's the first time a woman got angry with me?" Lew asked. "Heard about Grant… glad he's going to be okay."

"Just when you think it's calmed down…" she mumbled. "Hell of a last night."

She didn't want to talk about it anymore.

"Did you know I used to live in an all girls' apartment building in New Orleans? We had a chaperone and everything. No men were allowed passed the lobby because we were all 'virtuous women' after all."

"Somehow, I can't imagine you there," Lew joked.

"Oh believe me, if I could've been anywhere else, I would've. But, it was the only place where an unmarried woman such as myself could live…" she took another drink, "anyway, one morning, I was getting ready to go to my shift at the hospital, enjoying a nice hot cup of coffee when all the sudden I hear a loud knocking at the door of the apartment above me, then some scrambling, and next thing I know, there's a john dangling off the rain gutter next to my window. I dropped my coffee. This guy must've had a good night because he came in wearing nothing but his skivvies and lipstick stain lips.

"I could hear Ms. Johnson, our supervisor… well, more like virginity keeper, upstairs checking through the apartment. The john looks at me all red faced because he can't hold on much longer. So, I opened my window. Guy comes climbing through and lands with a loud 'thud'. and then the footsteps above start running down until they get to my door. Of course, I hide the john in my closet and tell him to shut up if he knows what's good for him. Then Ms. Johnson comes knocking at my door. 'Where is he, I know he's in here! I heard the bang!'" she tried to imitate her former landlord's high-pitched irritating voice.

"And of course I'm not gonna rat the poor boy out, so I pretend to be all flustered… break into tears and say: 'I dropped my coffee as a man wearing nothing... It was ever such a fright.'"

Lew laughed.

"Anyway, Ms. Johnson starts comforting me, calming me down… finally she apologizes and then leaves. All this time, the john's still in my closet. Once the coast is clear, I get him out of the closet and then very carefully usher him out of the room. The garbage chutes' big enough for a person to go down so…" She mimed the man sliding down the chute. "Can't say it was the last time it happened either."

"Claire Rousseau, smuggler of men. I knew there was a reason I liked you," he said.

"And here I thought it was because of my good looks and quick wit."

"Those are added bonuses," he replied.

She took a long drink from the bottle. She handed it to him. There were so many things she wanted to say to him.

"I want to thank you, Lew."

"For what?"

"I know you looked in my file. I know you know about my brother."

"I didn't want you to know I snooped," he shrugged.

"It's stupid… but when I'm around you, I miss James a little bit less," she answered.

"Glad I could help," he responded. He handed her the bottle. "You grew on me Rousseau… kind of like a fungus."

She drank once more. "I tell you you're like a brother to me and you call me a fungus? Admit it, Nixon, you love me."

"You keep telling yourself that, kid."

The bottle was nearing its end. She wasn't feeling as drunk as she had that night in Sturzelberg. That was before Lansberg, when her family problems seemed so huge. In retrospect, they became tiny.

They spent the next few hours talking and drinking. She told him stories about James and nursing school and he told her stories about Yale. It was nice, like nothing was wrong. But then Claire remembered, and she went sullen.

"Promise me you'll stay safe… that you'll keep your head down," she requested.

"I swear," he replied.

"And no more talk about transferring. The 506th is where you belong."

"Noted."

"And Lew… promise me that you won't lose yourself," she added.

"Promise me that when we get back stateside, we'll have a drink in New York," he retorted.

"Count on it. First round's on you."

They got up from their chairs and she hugged him.

"You take care of yourself, kid," he told her.

And that was it. The bottle was finished. Lew went off to bed and Claire stayed awake. She was drunk, but not enough that she could simply pass out. She laid in bed and tossed and turned while she was wide awake.

* * *

She never did end up falling asleep. Instead, she spent half the night outside on the balcony and then she packed her things. It was oh-seven-thirty when she went down. Claire took a deep breath before walking in the dining room where the officers frequently ate. She saw Dick, Harry, Lew, and Ron sitting there. Peacock, Foley, Lip, and Shames were probably starting PT with the men.

She took her normal spot next to Lew. There was a bowl of oatmeal in front of her. In a rare occurrence, they actually had brown sugar which she sprinkled on top. No one spoke, the only sound in the room came from utensils clanging on the bowls and sipping of coffee. The silence was killing her.

"So… Have you heard anything new about Grant?" Claire asked Ron.

"He hasn't woken up yet," Ron informed her.

"It isn't surprising. Head injuries are fickle. There's no way of knowing when he'll wake up," she explained. "I'm not going to have time to visit before I have to leave... will you give him my best when he wakes up?"

"Of course," Ron told him.

She wasn't hungry anymore.

"Thank you," she said. Another silence fell over them. It was terribly annoying. She got up from the table. "I should get my bag from upstairs. I filled out all the paperwork last night for my loot, which I've left on my desk in my room… I guess after three years you're finally getting rid of me."

"Claire, you'll be missed," Dick said as he got up from the table.

She had a small smile at that. He came around and held out his hand for her to shake. She grasped it and shook his hand. She looked at the others.

"I'm not going to get all sentimental, but I have to say that it was an honor, truly, to have served with all of you. You are some of the bravest men I've ever met," she told them. "I should go. I have to get ready."

Ron, Harry, and Lew all got up from the table.

"I guess this means I can actually win at a round of cards for once," Harry joked.

"Oh Harry, my leaving won't fix you being terrible at poker," she teased. He laughed and shook her hand.

"I'll miss ya, Claire."

Ron's turn came. "You did good work. Gonna be different not having you around all the time."

She shook his hand. "Thank you, Ron. I'm glad Easy has you. They need someone to keep them from killing each other."

When it came time for Lew, he didn't shake her hand, he pulled her into a tight hug. They didn't speak. They had their goodbye's last night.

She exited the room, walked up the stairs to collect her bag and came down. She ran smack into Lip.

"Sorry Captain," he apologized.

"Lip, how many times do I have to tell you to call me Claire," she told him. She dropped the bag on the ground. "We've been through enough together to throw the formalities to the wind."

"Yes, of course Claire," he responded.

"Shouldn't you be out doing PT with the men?" Claire asked.

"Captain Speirs gave the men the morning off," Lip informed her. "I was actually coming to get you."

Claire gave him a curious look as they walked out of the mansion. They walked until they got to the field behind the school. There stood the original Toccoa men and some of the replacements she'd gotten to know the past year. They had baseball gloves and one bat.

"Baseball, huh?" Claire questioned.

"It's the great American pastime," Luz reminded. "We'll even let you play this time."

"How generous," she replied sarcastically.

"So… you in?" Luz asked.

"Only if you're ready to get your ass handed to you by a girl, Luz," she replied with a large smile plastered on her face.

For a small pocket of time, things were okay. There was laughter and cheering as one team scored a run. She was in the outfield when her team wasn't at bat. Lew, Dick, Harry, and Ron had joined them. She ignored the fact that they brought her bag down. After Perconte struck out, they switched. Claire was waiting on the sidelines next to Babe. Last night, during her time on the balcony, Claire thought about a lot of things. One thing in particular was Babe's hands.

"Babe, about your hands," she said in a low voice so no one could hear.

He looked at her worriedly. "You're not going to say anything, right?"

"No… of course not," she assured. "But, I was thinking… It's a calcium deficiency. I hadn't thought about it before, but I realized it last night. It'll wear off in time. But for now… if you want to go home, that's your ticket."

"What?"

"It started happening in Bastogne. At least, that's what I wrote in the form when you came to me last night because they seized up… You understand?" All he had to do was give it to Gene. He'd take care of it.

"Yes, I do," he nodded. "Thanks Doc."

She winked before heading to the mound. It was Claire's turn up at bat. She hadn't been paying attention but she saw Skinny and Bull were each on a base.

"Alright guys, bring it in," Malarkey, the pitcher, said jovially as the outfield came in.

"Just throw the damn ball, Malarkey," she replied.

She struck out once, twice, but when Malarkey threw the ball the third time, Claire swung the bat and there was a loud crack as it connected with the ball. For a second, Claire and the rest of the men stopped, all of them surprised. Then she dropped the bat and ran as fast as she could to first base. When she got there, she could hear Lipton yelling to run to the next base. She sprinted until Eugene, who was second baseman, blocked her way. Claire dipped and tried to avoid him until he reached and tagged her out.

"You're out!" Luz yelled from his place as back catcher.

Claire looked back at Eugene, her eyes darting down to his lips for a brief moment. She thought about kissing them last night and her heart fluttered at the memory. She could tell by the look in his eyes he was thinking about the same thing.

The game was over too soon. The jeep pulled up and it hit her, along with everyone else, that she was really leaving. She looked up at Eugene and there was that look of realization that this was happening.

"Are you okay?" He asked so only she could hear.

For the first time since the Ardennes, Claire answered the question with complete honesty.

"I'll have to get back to you on that."

"I suppose this is it," she spoke. She looked at all her men, her friends, and gave them a small smile. "Don't do anything stupid… Malarkey, no running into firefights for some Jap pistol or anything like that."

There was laughter.

"One time!" Malarkey replied.

"And I'd better see all of you when this whole thing is over," she told them. "I'll buy the first round… Take care. Keep your heads down, and come back in one piece… It was an honor to serve with you."

And she saluted them all, then every single one of them in unison saluted her back. Three years ago, Claire walked into Camp Toccoa with the goal of earning the respect of these men so she could do her job. Three years later, she hadn't only earned it, but the respect developed into a bond of friendship that those who never experienced what they did would never understand.

She got in the jeep and as the jeep drove away, Claire looked back, watching as they gradually faded in the distance.

* * *

 **OK SO, I know the real Eugene Roe was married to a woman named Vera, they got divorced and he remarried later. This is not to disrespect those women or their children, this is for fictional purposes and I've been basing all the portrayals off of the actors and not the actual men. I have nothing but respect for all of them.**

 **I hope that you enjoyed the chapter. There is still story to tell because the war is not over yet. Let me know what you thought!**


	28. Just Like It Was Before

_July 9_ _th_ _1945 – St. Alban's Military Hospital, Long Island, New York_

"Good morning Private Smith, I'm Head Nurse Claire Rousseau… Nurse Levinson thought maybe I should come by," Claire explained.

Claire looked much different than she had when she first left Austria. When she arrived in England before taking a plane, she was brought into some colonel's office and lectured about how she was going back into society which meant she had to start 'acting like a proper lady' once more. She nodded, agreed but suppressed laughter.

Now, Claire Rousseau wore a white nurses' uniform dress and cap. Her black hair was now styled and curled every morning hung just above her shoulders. She had a pair of real nylon one stockings, and kept her lips painted red. She certainly looked the part of a lady. If not for the scars under her eye and on her jawline, no one would ever expect she'd gone to war.

However, despite her appearance, there were certain things about her personality that she couldn't make 'lady-like'. Claire was cold… often distant from her staff and patients. She'd earn the name 'Ice Queen', not that they ever called it to her face, but Claire had always been a talented eavesdropper. Though, that was essentially her role. She did paperwork, scheduling, and she'd push to get patients moving. She did rounds once a day, or she at least tried too. She suddenly understood why Dick got bored as Battalion XO.

Private Smith had arrived about about two weeks ago with a spinal injury that supposedly paralyzed him. Based on his file, he'd started getting feeling again in his arms and lower extremities before he arrived here. He had yet to move from bed and would stare off into the distance. He reminded her an awful lot of James MacArthur, that boy from the hospital in England. Many of the men in here did.

He didn't speak at all. Didn't acknowledge her. She was called because Second Lieutenant Nurse Hattie Levinson was having no success.

"Private Smith, I was hoping we could try moving your fingers. That's all, just your fingers," she reasoned.

Nurse Levinson looked at her in desperation.

"Nurse Levinson, why don't you go fetch Doctor Willis," Claire suggested to the young nurse.

Hattie was a young twenty-one year old freshly inducted nurse. She had a thick Boston accent and was a bright optimistic girl with red hair and green eyes. She was quite the gossip.

The young nurse took off to go find the doctor.

"Why don't you tell me your name, Smith?" She offered.

Still nothing. Claire huffed. She knew his name of course, but she wanted to get him talking, to do anything.

"What is it Nurse Rousseau?" Doctor Willis asked.

She looked down at Private Smith. "We should transfer Private Smith to psych. He's not making progress here."

"No no, give me a few more days," Nurse Levinson pleaded. "I'll get him up and moving."

"Nurse Levinson, need I remind you that we have beds here for men who _want_ to get better. It has been made very clear to me that Private Smith _doesn't_. Wouldn't you agree Doctor Willis?" Claire turned to the doctor.

"Yes, I would, Nurse Rousseau," Doctor Willis agreed. He could see what she was doing.

There was a loud noiseas a glass went smashing to the ground. Claire suppressed the smile on the corner of her lips. She looked over to see Private Smith looking at her angrily and his arm moved up and was by the bedside table where a glass of water had once been.

"Nurse Levinson, follow me on rounds," she motioned for the young nurse to follow.

"Is he being transferred?" Levinson asked when they were far enough away.

"No, he's not," she answered. "He wasn't going to be… not for another few weeks or so."

"Then why…"

"Nurse Levinson, these men have seen horrors that you can't possibly imagine. Many of them watched their friends get blown to pieces."

 _RU-_

 _Then nothing._

Claire shook it off.

 _Stop it._

"They need to be given a reason to keep moving. Whether it's by their own will or by spite. What I did was anger Private Smith to the point where he'll try just to prove me and Doctor Willis wrong," she explained. "You can care for them, but you can't coddle. It only helps when they're dying."

She left the shocked young nurse in her wake as Claire kept on her rounds. She was the Ice Queen, and she played her part well.

Before returning to her dreaded paperwork, she went from ward to ward getting updates on patients. Half her day was spent doing this, then she'd be locked in her office for the rest. She had fifteen nurses. Eight, worked during the day while seven worked at night. She would alternate weekly. Claire, herself, work three night shifts a week and four in the day. She also took care of the food schedule. She oversaw the orderlies and made sure every patient was fed. The other majority of her paperwork was looking at patient files and assigning them to the right ward. There were supposed to be two nurses per ward, but two wards during the day had one and three at night. Luckily, they weren't a surgical hospital. Most of what they do is continuing physical therapy, giving medication, and providing psychiatric help to those who need it.

Since she arrived, Claire rarely spoke to the others, patients or staff. After work, she would head back to her room in the nurses ward and write or read. She had a small radio and would listen to music. She didn't like working much at night, she could hear the men having nightmares, the same ones she knew plagued her every night.

She was going through the very last ward, taking as much time as possible. She did not want to go back to paperwork. She checked a few charts. There were a few cases Claire made herself aware of.

She was walking past a patient with an amputated leg. Looking at it, she was briefly reminded of The Bois Jacques.

 _My helmet… I have to get my helmet._

Where Joe Toye's right leg had been there was nothing but a stump that resembles ground meat.

Bill's leg barely hanging on by a thread. The nerves quivering like a bowl of gelatin.

 _Keep it together._

Deep breath. In and out. In and out.

"Miss?" She heard someone in the bed next to her. "Nurse?"

She snapped out of her memories and turned towards the man in the bed. She'd checked the chart and knew he was a Private with a spinal injury. It was a bruised spine so with some physical therapy he would be up and moving in no time.

"Yes, private, is there something I can do for you?" Claire asked.

"Could you… could you take me outside?" He asked. "I want to get some air."

He had curly red hair and brown eyes. He looked to be about her age, though war had aged him. There was a small nagging thought at the back of her head that she knew him from somewhere. Though, she found she did that with many of the soldiers. When she closed her eyes, many times she found herself back in Bastogne and every soldier blended together.

She was surprised he asked her. There weren't many who would, but a stroll with a patient was much more appealing than paperwork. Besides, she was the head nurse, she made the call.

"Of course, Private," she replied.

After helping him into his chair, Claire rolled him out of the hospital into a lovely garden. She parked the chair next to the stone bench Claire often came when she took a rare break. The sun shined brightly in the sky. She could hear the cars rumbling by on the street in front of the hospital. She was having a hard time getting used to city life once more.

The two sat in silence for a good long while. Whenever memories like Bill and Joe's legs, she thought about better things. By better things, she thought about Eugene. She thought about the kiss in Austria, but she also thought about all the times he made her laugh, that he comforted her in the dark times. On the long trip back from Austria, Claire carefully went over every moment she shared with him. It was clearer now more than ever her feelings for him. However, as long as they were still in the army, they couldn't do anything.

"It's a whole different world back here," the soldier finally spoke. "I forgot how humid Long Island summers are."

"Where are you from?" She asked.

"North Jersey," he replied.

Her old wound on her thigh from the shrapnel she took in Holland was stiffening up again. She cringed as she stretched it out.

"What about you? I take it from the accent you're not from around here," he deduced.

"Louisiana," she replied. Why was he asking her all these questions?

"Funny, you're not how I thought you would be," he spoke.

"Excuse me?" She asked.

"When you first got here, it didn't click on who you were until I asked a nurse what your name was," he responded. "You look different from the picture."

He took out a pack of smokes and offered her one. She shook her head; she was trying to give up the habit.

"Have we met before?" Claire asked as he lit up a smoke.

"No, but we have a mutual friend," he answered. "My name is Robert Leckie, but my friends call me Lucky… I'm a marine. I knew Lieutenant Eleanor Thompson."

 _Oh my God._

Her eyes were wide in shock. Now she knew where she recognized him…

"Eleanor sent me a picture…" Claire voice. "Of all of you at Guadalcanal."

"And then you sent one back. You look different than you did back then," he said.

"That was before I jumped into Normandy," she replied.

 _The rushing water over her head as she tried to cut herself free._

That picture was before everything.

"What happened?" She asked. It slipped out, but she wanted to know how her friend died. "The letter I got didn't say how she…"

Private Leckie remained quiet. She could tell by the look in his eyes that he was going back to that day.

"I'm sorry… I shouldn't've asked," she apologized. "Can you tell me what she was like?"

At this, Leckie smiled. "She was… funny, and sweet, and fierce, and loyal, and brave… she was the best person I knew… she was a hero."

They sat there for a very long time talking. He told her stories about their late friend. The longer Claire sat there, the longer she realized that it was cathartic for him. He talked about training at New River when he first met Eleanor.

It was getting on in the day and Claire had to get to her paperwork. At least, if she wanted to get to bed at a decent hour.

"I hate to leave this, but I have a large stack of paperwork with my name on it," Claire spoke.

"Can we do this again?" Leckie asked. "It's nice… you kind of remind me of her."

Claire smiled. "I wish I would've met her… Tell you what, we'll get you started on getting back on your feet, and we can talk more."

"You sure you can get away from the paperwork?" Leckie asked.

"Believe me, it's no skin off my back," she replied.

When Claire wheeled Leckie back to his bed, she thought about his story. She knew it was a shallow version. Still, there were things she picked up on.

"Leckie, I have to ask," she said as she helped him back in the bed. "Eleanor and the other guy… were they…"

She didn't say the words.

"Yeah… well, I think so," Leckie deduced what she was trying to say. "I don't really know. They never said anything until it was too late."

"Thank you," she replied. "I've got to get to going now, but I'll be back tomorrow. We'll start getting you up and moving again."

"Looking forward to it," he said with a smile.

Claire made it to her office, her stack of paperwork for today was much smaller, thankfully. She finished it just as her shift ended and she headed back to her quarters. She sat down and wrote a letter. She'd wrote and rewrote the letter half a dozen times unable to make it just right. She didn't know how to say it without sounding stupid.

* * *

 _Water rushed over her head as she frantically cut at the straps of her harness. When she was finally freed, Claire swam to the side and pulled herself out of the water… then she was running as German's yelled behind her. A shot ripped through the air._

" _They've got us zeroed!" Lip yelled as Claire tried to drag Quinn through the alley in Carentan._

" _RUSS!"_

 _Then she was blown back. Quinn's blood stained her pants. His intestines were blown across the cobblestone road._

" _M-m-m…" Thomas Walton sputtered as he died just outside Carentan._

Why me? _The woman in the pink dress asked as the villagers cut her hair._

 _As bullets ripped past her, she crawled on the ground, her leg radiating in pain._

Get up! _She screamed at herself as she tried desperately to get away._

" _I hope when you die, it's quick," James MacArthur told her a Lucky Strike hanging out of his mouth._

" _Just leave me alone, Henry," she begged her brother's former best friend. He looked back at her, and she wanted nothing more than to make him vanish._

" _A life in pain is not worth living at all."_

" _No one's gonna mourn me," she told Eugene on that day in the church in Bastogne._

" _RU-" And then… nothing._

" _I don't wanna die!" Jackson cried out as he lay choking on his own blood._

 _Dozens of walking skeletons staring at her._

 _Dead._

 _Alive._

 _Dead._

 _Dead._

 _Alive._

" _They're Jews, Poles, Gypsies…"_

 _Why? Why? Why?_

Claire woke up and sat right up, her body drenched in sweat. Every night, her memories played over and over again. She relived the horrors of war every time she closed her eyes. It had happened in the war, but never like this. Every day, like a goddamn movie.

She reached in her bedside table and pulled out her new journal. She bought it in England before her flight back since the German soldier's was now filled. She opened to the first page where she found a picture. It was of Easy Company taken at Camp Mackall before they left for England three years ago. She took the pen and started from left to right.

Evans _– KIA June 1944_

Harris – _KIA June 1944_

Quinn – _KIA June 1944_

Richards – _KIA June 1944_

Dukeman – _KIA October 1944_

Hoobler – _KIA January 1945_

Kiehn – _KIA February 1945_

Walton _– KIA June 1944_

Dewitt – _KIA January 1945_

Sowosko – _KIA January 1945_

Penkala – _KIA January 1945_

Muck – _KIA Januray 1945_

And so many more. That wasn't counting all the replacements that came after.

When she finished with the dead, she did the same for the wounded. By the end, nearly every single one of them had something.

The longer she stared at the picture, the harder it became to swallow back her tears. She tried until she could no longer bear the grief and she broke down. She brought her knees to her chest and sobbed quietly in the blanket that covered them.

* * *

 _End of July 1945_

Claire looked up from her large stack of papers at the sound of someone knocking at her office door.

"Enter," she said.

The door opened to reveal First Lieutenant Nurse Dorothy McCain. She was a blonde haired, blue eyed, fair skinned woman. She always wore a bright smile and was a favorite among the patients. Nurse McCain was one of the very best. She was friendly with Claire.

"What can I do for you Nurse McCain?" Claire asked.

"A few of the girls and I are heading to the city for the night. Gertie somehow managed to get us tickets to see some show… I – we were wondering if you wanted to join us," McCain said.

She was caught off guard at the request. This weekend it was her first leave since she got here a month ago. She'd written to Bill Guarnere when she first arrived and now this was the first weekend she would be able to go visit him and Joe Toye in the hospital.

"I'm actually heading to visit a friend in Atlantic City," she replied. "But, thank you for the offer."

"Of course… maybe next time," McCain said, her ever present smile still on her lips, though it fell slightly.

"Nurse McCain, I am grateful that you asked," she stated. "It means a lot. I know I'm not exactly the most well liked here."

She was the Ice Queen after all.

"Nah, it's not that they don't like you, they're just scared of you," McCain explained. Claire looked at her curiously. "Our last head nurse got discharged because she got pregnant. She was warm and sweet… then you come… it's just an adjustment is all… Ma'am, I hope you aren't offended by this but I have to ask, were you at Anzio?"

"I'm sorry?" Claire asked.

"My sister was there as a nurse. She got wounded… pretty bad too… she's home now. I went and visited her. She had that same distant stare you get… that all those men get. She flinched every time there was a loud _bang_ …"

Claire had a hard time with thunderstorms. Every clap of thunder reminded her of the endless artillery barrages in The Bois Jacques. She could still clearly hear Skip yelling at her to get in the hole before a shell came down and obliterated him. She had a panic attack during the last big storm, luckily no one was around to see it.

"No, McCain, I wasn't at Anzio," Claire replied.

"But you saw stuff like that, right?" She pressed.

"Yes," she answered. "I did."

Claire kept the answer brief. She thought about that piece of paper they made her sign when she first got here. She'd been expecting it of course, but she hadn't thought it would be as cruel as it had come. She wasn't allowed to talk about her experience, talk about how she went to the front, and if she did, she would lose army benefits. Just like that, everything she did would be forgotten.

"Where I was before doesn't matter. I'm here now."

Of course it mattered. She never stopped thinking her boys back in Austria and the ones in hospitals across the country.

"Next time, you should come," Nurse McCain told her. "I don't think you're as cold as you make yourself seem."

Nurse McCain left her office after that.

An hour later, Claire was on a bus to Atlantic City in her Class A uniform. She was surrounded by eager GI's on leave. She sat at the very front of the bus and kept her head down. Claire watched the urban scenery passing by. She remembered the long drive from Sturzelberg to Lansberg.

 _Gory Gory what a Hell of a way to die._

She remembered that though she was hungover, she sang, and laughed. That was before the camp, when the end was nigh and they could start thinking about the future.

The drive wasn't long. Before she knew it, Claire was walking down the boardwalk, a little blown away by the amount of military hospitals there were. The hot sun beat down on her and she wished she didn't have to wear the jacket.

She reached the hospital she was looking for and walked up to the reception at the front. This hospital was much larger than St. Alban's. It was bright and shiny and colorful.

"Hi, I'm here to see Sergeant Guarnere," she stated.

"Name?" The bored receptionist asked.

"Um… Captain Claire Rousseau."

"Sign here." She did. "Third floor to the right, room 318," she said. "Visiting hours' end at six."

"Thanks."

Claire walked to the elevator and hit the button to the third floor. She turned to the right and down the hall. Claire stopped in front of the room and knocked on the door. She walked in to see Bill Guarnere in a hospital bed with Joe Toye in a wheelchair next to him. They both turned to see her in the doorway.

"Hope I'm not interrupting," Claire said with a large smile on her lips.

"Well I'll be damned," Joe Toye said. "What're you doing here Russ?"

"Didn't Wild Bill over there tell you I was visiting?" She asked.

"Thought I'd surprise you," Bill shrugged. "You just gonna stand there or are you gonna grab a seat?"

Claire smirked and went over to the bed and sat on the edge.

"You look different," Bill pointed out.

"Yeah, you look like a girl for once," Joe added. "Well, like you did back at Toccoa."

Claire laughed. She'd missed them. She shrugged. "Showers and a bit of red lipstick'll do that."

"Where you at now that you're stateside?" Joe asked.

"I've been working at a hospital in Long Island," she replied. "Have you heard anything from the guys?"

"Yeah, got a letter from Malark last week," Joe answered. "He told me you were gone, but not that you were here."

"How is he?" She asked. "How are they? I haven't heard from them since I got here."

"Doing good, all things considered," Joe answered. "Mostly, he says they're all bored and tired of being there. Grant was evacuated. He woke up."

"Good, that's a relief," she said. "So, you two causing all kinds of trouble here?"

"I'm offended, Joe and I happen to be perfect angels," Bill stated.

"Mmhmm… whatever you say Bill."

"So, how you been, Russ?" Bill asked.

She thought about her nightmares, about how she ducked when there was a loud clap of thunder. But she couldn't tell them about that.

"Doing fine," she lied. "Took a bit of adjusting, but… I'm doing fine. I should be asking you that."

"Eh, we're good, ain't we Joe?"

"Yeah, I'd say so. Nurses are pretty."

"Nice to see that some things don't change," she said with a smile. "Just don't forget who your favorite one is."

"How can I forget the woman that went AWOL to go back to the fight?" Bill asked. "Crazy broad you are."

"I'm never gonna live that down, am I?" Claire asked.

"Would you rather we talk about the broad in Holland? Last time I saw you wearing lipstick," Joe reminded her.

"Jesus, I completely forgot about that," Claire laughed.

"Wait, what broad?" Bill asked.

"Remember how grateful the people of Eindhoven were?" Joe asked. "One was _very_ thankful to our girl."

"She didn't see that I was a woman," Claire defended.

Bill, the bastard, started to laugh.

"Oh, I would not talk. Need I remind you of the Piccadilly in London?" Claire asked.

"You swore to never talk about it again," Bill countered.

"Hey, Joe started it."

"But I gotta pay?" Bill asked.

"Fine, hey Joe, remember that time I knocked you on your ass in basic?" Claire recalled.

"One time! 'Sides, had to give you something, you were just starting to grow on me."

"Uh-huh, you keep telling yourself whatever you gotta to protect your manhood," she laughed.

It was nice seeing both them alive and okay. They weren't as thin as they had been, and the light in their eyes wasn't as dim. She wondered what she looked like to them. If she looked the part of the proper lady. Her language she let slip around them, reminding her of the days she didn't have to pretend.

A nurse came by a few moments later to take Joe away for physical therapy.

"It's good seeing you, Russ," he said before being wheeled away.

"You too, Joe. I've missed you," she replied. Joe smiled before being wheeled out leaving Claire and Bill alone.

"So, you gonna tell me how you're really doing?" Bill asked.

He knew. Of course he did. He was there when Claire broke down crying after Henry. He'd seen her after Quinn's intestines were strewn across the ground after a mortar almost blew her up too. She honestly still wasn't sure how she got out of Carentan practically unscathed. Bill had seen her at her worst. He knew when she was hiding something.

"I'm… trying," was all she could think to say.

"You look tired. You been getting sleep?" Of course he never beat around the bush.

Claire simply shrugged in response.

"You got nightmares?" He asked.

"Yeah… do you?"

Bill just nodded.

"Wanna know something dumb?" She asked. "I flew here from England and I'd never been more terrified. We hit turbulence and by god I nearly grabbed a chute and jumped right out. I jumped out into enemy fire on D-Day and landed in rushing water. I parachuted into Occupied Holland… but I'm terrified of planes."

"Same thing happened to me, Russ. I woulda jumped out with only one leg," Bill assured.

"Do they have you trying out the prosthetic yet?" Claire asked.

"Nah, still gotta heal a bit more."

She looked down at the stump. She remembered that day. She remembered trying to climb out of the foxhole to get to the wounded but Bull pulled her back. She didn't fight. Maybe if she had…

"I'm sorry, Bill," she apologized. "It was my job…"

"Hey, what'd I tell you? It ain't your fault. I'm the stupid mick that ran out in the middle of a shelling."

"To save Joe. 'Cause of you he's alive."

"And 'cause of you, Alley, Tipper, Weir, Cobb, Mampre, Lieutenant Brewer, Grant, those boys in Bastogne, me… we're alive. You and Doc, you saved our asses multiple times," Bill stated.

"It's my job, Bill."

She always had to remind them that what she did wasn't something extraordinary because she was a woman. They never said that sort of stuff to Eugene. She did her job, just as he did.

"Then why do you feel guilty?" He asked.

Suddenly, Claire got a flash of Alexander Melville impaled.

She shrugged. She didn't want to tell him that she felt guilty for being alive.

"Have you written to Doc?" Bill changed the subject.

"No…" she admitted. "I'm… I'm having trouble."

"With Doc?" He asked almost in disbelief.

"Bill… if I tell you something, you promise not to tell anyone?" Claire asked.

"You know I will."

She took a deep breath before saying it all in one shot. "On my last night in Austria, Gene and I… we kissed."

Bill went quiet.

 _Oh crap._ She should not have said anything.

"Bout damn time," Bill finally spoke up. A large grin on his face. "Looks like Luz owes me ten bucks."

"What?" Claire asked confused.

"We all knew," he said. "Small quarters, hard not to notice things."

"How could you know when I had no idea?" She asked.

"I ain't blind?" He offered. "D'you love him?"

Claire sighed. How could she possibly describe her feelings?

"I just… In all that Hell, he was the one good thing… Of course I love him… how could I not? When I see myself getting to live that normal happy life, it's always with him."

"Then what's stopping you?" Bill asked.

"What if the only reason he thought that way about me was because I was the only woman around?" There it was, the real reason she blocked so often in writing to him.

Bill seemed to mull over that for a moment.

"I'm gonna be honest with ya Russ… at some point or another we were all kinda in love with you. I mean, you're right, you were the only woman within a ten mile radius and we were on the line a long time. Then that wore off. You stopped bein' a woman to most of us. You were just Russ… You were never thatto Doc. We could all see it. Even back at the start."

"So you're saying I should tell him."

"Yes, you should. Something good oughta come out of this whole mess."

She smiled at him.

"What about you, Bill, you got some nurse here that you've got your eye on?" Claire asked changing the subject from her.

"No," he answered. "But I got a girl… Frannie."

"When d'you meet her?" Claire asked curiously.

"Long time ago. She's the hula girl."

The hula girl? She thought for a moment until she remembered the picture Bill always carried.

"I always thought she was a picture from a magazine," Claire shrugged. Then it dawned on her. "Wait… you had a girl this whole time? Even with the Piccadilly?"

"I…"

Claire laughed. "I'm screwing with you, Bill. I don't agree with it, but I know what it was like over there... You needed a distraction."

"Good ol' Russ, always looking out for me."

"You gonna marry Frannie?" She asked.

"Soon as I get outta here," he replied.

Claire smiled at him.

They sat and talked for the rest of visiting hours. She told him about Leckie and Eleanor. How every day she learnt a little bit more about her friend. It was nice, she told him, to learn about someone she never truly got the chance to know.

All too soon, a nurse was coming in to announce that visiting hours were over.

"I'll be back soon, I promise," she said.

"Thanks for coming… Take care of yourself, Russ."

"Same to you, Bill. Give Joe my best."

And just like that, she was gone. She grabbed some dinner at a diner. She sipped on a cup of coffee and pulled out the paper from her pocket and asked the nice waitress if she could borrow a pen. Then she took a deep breath and started to write.

* * *

 _Zell-Am-See Austria, July 1945_

Eugene sat quietly in the barracks. He had the day off at the aid station. He tried to work as much as possible, kept him from thinking about a certain nurse back in the states. He did see that there was a difference in the feel of camp. With Grant and Claire gone, they'd lost two original Toccoa soldiers. More than that, they lost two great leaders.

Shortly after Claire left and Grant got shot, Easy Company and the rest of the 506th were moved to a camp just outside the town. It reminded him of Toccoa, though these mountains were much more intimidating than Currahee. He kept waiting for the order to run up them, though he knew it probably wouldn't come. They still went into town, mostly just to hit the bar.

Vest came around and delivered the letters.

"Doc," he said and handed Gene a letter.

He could tell by the writing on the envelope who it was.

"That from Russ?" Luz asked. He knew Luz missed Claire.

"Yeah," he answered.

"Well… are you gonna read it?" Malarkey urged. Eugene knew it was customary to read letters from home out loud. It raises morale. He also knew that they would want to hear from her.

"Dear Eugene," he read out loud. "It's been three weeks since I left Austria, though it feels much longer than that. Maybe by the time this letter gets to you it'll be longer… I'm still not sure how fast mail is now. It's strange being back. The night clubs are booming, jobs are on the rise, and yes, tell Luz Rita Hayworth is still married. I think some forget that there's still a war going on. Or maybe they don't want to think about it.

"Head Nurse is about as fun as it sounds. My daily routine consists essentially of paperwork and only seeing patients once a day, if I'm lucky. The nurses I work with are all sweet naïve girls who want adventure and to find their future husbands."

This got some hoots from the boys. Eugene smirked but kept reading. "Here, I'm no longer Captain Rousseau. I am no longer called 'ma'am' unless it's one of my nurses. Here I am 'Miss' or 'Nurse'."

"Bet she _loves_ that," Luz said sarcastically.

"It took some getting used to, but now I don't feel like snapping every time. I suppose that's how it will be from now on. I'm writing this to you at a diner in Atlantic City. I've just come from visiting Toye and Guarnere. They're doing fine. Raising all kinds of Hell in the hospital, as is to be expected."

"Good ol' Toye and Gonorrhea," Malarkey laughed.

"…We talked for a good long while, and what I've figured out along the way… or maybe I've always known is…"

He stopped reading out loud. He read the sentence quietly, his eyes locking on three words. The three words he'd wanted to hear and there they were written plain as day.

"Is?" Luz pressed.

"She… uh… she says she misses us," he stumbled. "And that she can't wait to see us again."

Luz looked at him disbelieving.

"I'm going for a drink," Malarkey announced. "Who's in?"

There was a chorus of agreement and many of the men got up to leave. Eugene didn't move. He stayed in his cot, the letter in his hand. He wanted to write back. Mail call was two days from now. It was great hearing from her. Even better to know those three words, but if anything it made him miss her more.

"Hey Doc, you coming along?" Luz asked from the entrance of the tent.

"Nah, I think I'm going to stay," he replied.

"I miss her too, Gene," he deduced. Certainly not the same way Eugene did. "Come grab a drink with your pals. Might take your mind off things."

He thought about those three words again. _I love you._ That's what she'd written. Eugene had known how he felt about her for a good long time. He pushed his feelings aside because he knew nothing could happen between them. He denied them for a long time. He wasn't sure exactly when he'd come to accept them, no that's a lie. He knew when it was. At the aid station in Saint-Marie-du-Mont when he saw her after the jump. The relief, the joy he felt upon seeing her washed away the fear he felt when she wasn't there. That moment, that was when he stopped denying them. Of course, he couldn't act on those feelings, not while she was his CO.

Maybe he should go and have a drink. He put the letter in his pocket and got up from the cot. He'd write to her tomorrow during his shift at the aid station.

* * *

 **I hope you enjoyed this chapter. The story is almost over. I think there's about two-three more chapters before the epilogue. Thank you to those who reviewed! Let me know what you thought.**


	29. When We Were Soldiers

Claire was on her daily rounds. She was in the new arrivals and examined every single chart. She tucked the bed sheets and did things normal nurses do. She was so used to the constant movement that came from being in the battlefield. This was a drastic change.

She came up to a soldier whose spine had been damaged in an explosion and now he was paralyzed from the waist down. He had dark hair and equally dark brown eyes. Despite the cold and distant look in his eyes, Claire saw a youthful glow. Suddenly the soldier was replaced by Alexander Melville lying on the bed with his middle spewing out blood. He looked at her dead in the eye.

 _Why didn't you save me?_ He asked.

 _I'm sorry._

Claire gripped the clipboard in her hand and stood there stiffly. She couldn't tear her eyes away from him. She felt tears pricking her eyes, the air around her got cold. She could hear bombs going off in the distance.

"Nurse Rousseau?"

Claire blinked and suddenly Melville was gone, replaced by the soldier in the bed. She looked over to see Nurse McCain's concerned gaze.

"Is there something I can help you with, Nurse McCain?" Claire asked, keeping her emotions at bay.

"Um… Private Reynolds is reluctant to try the walker. Veronica's been trying to coax him but he won't," she explained.

"I'll be right there," she said before casting one final look at the soldier in the bed.

Her ghosts always found a way to come and haunt her. Dick once told her that in order to be a leader, occasionally there were tough calls to be made. Claire understood that, and in the time she'd made them. But now, when she was away from the fray, she thought about her mistakes. She'd made plenty but Melville was her biggest. She wondered if Dick or Ron felt this way.

Her guilt over his death was enough to swallow her whole. It was her fault he was dead. She thought about his family and about the letter she sent them. She remembered thinking it was enough, but she knew it wasn't.

* * *

 _St. Alban's Military Hospital, Long Island – July 30_ _th_ _1945_

"And she looks at the GI right in the eye and says: 'If you don't take your hand off my ass right this instant, I'll have no choice but to remove it myself… and believe me, it won't be pretty.' Of course the idiot doesn't do it so Tommy elbows him in the nose and breaks it," Leckie recounted as they walked down the hallway. He was making great progress. He was still using a walker but at least he was out of the chair.

Claire laughed at the story. She was lucky, she'd gotten plenty of cat-calls, some groping, but never anything like that. It probably helped that she rarely went anywhere without her men, and perhaps it helped that she kept her hair short. She blended in easier.

"What about you?" He asked her after he finished the story.

"What about me?" She replied confused.

"What's your story?" He specified.

Claire shrugged and continued to help him walk. "There's not much… I went to war, saw some things, and now I'm back."

She thought back to that piece of paper on the Colonel's desk.

"I get it… You don't need to give specifics," he assured. "How'd you get the scars?"

She had the two visible ones on her face, her other three were hidden, though the one on her hairline was barely large enough to show.

"One in France, one in Belgium," she said briefly.

 _Quinn's insides scattered across the ground as Claire was blown back._

 _Skip's terrified brown eyes from his foxhole._

" _RU –" And then… nothing._

She shook away her memories.

"Did Eleanor have family?" She asked.

Leckie seemed to hesitate for a moment. "Uh… no… she was raised at an orphanage."

Just as she'd thought.

"And the other one? You said Eleanor met her at Guadalcanal," Claire recalled this bit from an earlier conversation.

"Florence? I'm not sure... Why?" Leckie asked.

"No reason."

She was right. What she told Eugene that day in Bastogne, about why she was chosen was true. But she didn't think the war department realized that they would be mourned by their friends. Leckie's recollection of Eleanor proved that. There would always be people who knew, regardless of how much they tried to silence her. It was a comforting thought.

"You got family?" He asked.

She shook her head.

Claire looked down at her watch. She didn't have much time today. They walked back towards his ward.

"Paperwork calling?" Leckie asked.

"I have some work to do before I head off for a few days," she explained.

Claire was given a week long furlough. She thought maybe it was an attempt to make up for screwing her over. She couldn't back out of it.

"You got anything planned?" He asked.

"Making a stop in Chicago for a day and then got a few things to take care of back in New Orleans… after that, nothing" she explained.

"Only a day?" He asked.

"There's something I need to do."

"That's cryptic."

"I have to go. Nurse Reynolds will be here to help you when I'm gone," she explained. "Don't give her too much trouble."

"Me? Never."

Claire bit back a smirk. She had a façade to keep up. To everyone else, she was still the Ice Queen.

"I'll see you when I get back."

"Have fun."

Claire sat behind her desk as Dorothy McCain knocked.

"Nurse McCain, thank you for coming," she said. Dorothy sat in the chair in front of her desk. "I thought we could go over what you'll need to know while I'm gone."

Dorothy was acting head nurse while Claire was on furlough. She was Claire's choice. She explained to her every single detail about the duties Dorothy was undertaking. Of course, she left it in writing, knowing that she would most likely forget. And then, her day was over.

"I have full confidence that you'll be able to handle this, Dorothy."

"I didn't think you knew my first name," she voiced.

"I might keep my distance but that doesn't mean I don't pay attention. I like to separate church and state," Claire explained. It made it easier. She wouldn't have to lie about her story if they didn't talk to her.

"Awfully lonely isn't it?" Dorothy asked.

"Maybe. Have a good week. I'll be back on Friday."

* * *

 _Chicago, Illinois – August 1_ _st_ _1945_

When she left her hotel room, she stood on the side of the road for half an hour before she finally summoned up the courage to hail a taxi.

"Here," she said as the driver pulled up in front of a house with a flag in the front window, a gold star above two black ones. "Thank you."

She paid the driver and started up the walkway. Nervously, she straightened out the skirt of her felt like she was walking with cinderblocks tied to her feet. When she got to the door, Claire hesitated before ringing the doorbell. She looked over again at the flag in the front window, the gold star sticking out like a sore thumb.

This was stupid. She shouldn't have come.

Claire turned to walk away as the door opened. She looked back to see a middle-aged woman with the same brown hair and soft brown eyes she remembered from Bastogne, but she could see the grief etched on the corners.

"Hello?" The woman asked curiously. "Is there something I can help you with, Miss?"

"I..."

"I'm sorry, I've already bought enough warbonds."

"No that isn't why I… I shouldn't have come here," Claire stammered.

"Who are you?" The woman asked.

Claire looked back at the woman, her gaze looked passed the woman and locked on the gold star.

 _Melville stood there impaled by a beam._

She looked back at the woman, tears springing from her eyes.

"Miss? Are you alright?"

Claire blinked and tried to push back the tears.

"M-My…" She took a deep breath and started up again. "My name is Claire… I knew your son."

Mrs. Melville's hand went to her mouth. "Y-You wrote that letter."

Claire, not trusting the sound of her own voice, nodded.

"I'm sorry I bothered you. I wanted to…"

What did she want? Why exactly had she come here?

"Come inside," Mrs. Melville invited her in. "I have some questions for you."

Claire obliged and followed the woman inside.

"I'm sorry about the mess," Mrs. Melville stated. "Seven… six kids will do that."

The Melville home was cluttered. The walls were covered with pictures. Claire was led into the family room. She saw Mel's military portrait sitting proudly on the mantle with a Bronze Star and a Purple Heart hung up on the frame.

"They awarded it to him for what he did that day."

Claire blinked back her tears.

"Would you like something to drink? Tea, coffee, water?"

"I'm fine, thank you."

"Why don't you take a seat?" Mrs. Melville said.

Claire nodded and took a seat on the chair parallel to her. Mrs. Melville saw her gaze look past her back to the flag.

"I have two more in the Army," Mrs. Melville stated. "Alexander's brother, John, is in the Navy and his sister, Joanna, is in the Women's Army Auxiliary Corps."

"He mentioned Joanna," Claire stated.

"They were close. Alexander idolized her."

Claire smiled.

"Can I ask… what happened that night?" Mrs. Melville asked.

Claire's smile fell from her lips.

"In your letter… Patrick said you knew. He said you were there. Please… it's all I can think about."

She tried to blink back tears but her it failed miserably.

"I'm sorry," she managed to get out.

"Why are you sorry, dear?" Mrs. Melville questioned.

 _Because I killed your son._

"It was my fault," Claire tearfully admitted.

And she broke down.

"I never should've… I should've told him to leave… I should've…"

"Slow down," Mrs. Melville told her. She got up from the chair across and sat next to Claire on the couch. She placed one hand comfortingly on her back.

Claire composed herself. And she told her everything. The only detail she spared was the pure brutality of how she found Mel's body. Mrs. Melville retracted the hand from her back.

"I'm sorry," she apologized at the end. "I'm sorry about… everything."

Mrs. Melville stayed quiet.

"I'm sorry."

She had more tears rolling down her cheeks.

"I wish…"

"Please, stop."

This was what she expected.

"I should g…"

"If it's forgiveness you came for…"

"No, that's not…" she drifted off. Why had she come here?

She was crying too. "What happened was not on you."

Claire couldn't find the words.

"I don't pretend to understand why God does the things he does, but I know that it was not your fault," she said. "He admired you. He said so."

Claire looked at her curiously.

"A few days after the telegram came, Alexander's last letter came," she explained. "If forgiveness is what you came for, you have it. I forgive you for what happened that night."

She broke down again.

"Thank you," Claire blubbered. "Thank you."

"And forgive yourself. Let go of that guilt."

Claire wiped her tears.

She couldn't forgive herself, but knowing Melville's mother forgave her alleviated some of the weight she'd been carrying.

* * *

 _New Orleans, Louisiana – August 4_ _th_ _1945_

After leaving Chicaco, Claire took a bus and then a train ride back to New Orleans. She had planned on coming for two days at the most, mostly to figure out if she still had a place to live after this war was over. She wandered around the familiar streets of the French Quarter. It was strange being back. Everything still looked the same. There were still busker acts on every street corner. Homeless people huddled in the corners in their dirty and tattered clothes. It was a hot summer day, making only the smell of urine worst. She passed apothecary and psychic boutiques. New Orleans was famous for it's superstitions.

"You've seen great darkness haven't you?"

Claire turned around to see an old woman sitting in front of a table wearing a dark purple robe and a matching cap with a long feather sticking out. She had long bony fingers with red painted nails that resembled talons. Her lips were red to match and her wrinkled face painted with makeup. A cheesy crystal ball sat on the table with a deck of tarot cards and some other 'mystical charms'. She resembled every psychic in New Orleans.

"Excuse me?"

"I see it around you… a dark cloud," the woman explained in an exagerrated Cajun accent. "Come, come, Madam LaChance will read your fortune."

"No offence lady, but I've lived in New Orleans long enough to know that you sit there all day and wait for tourists to come by so you can make a quick buck while telling some John or Jane vague predictions," she snapped.

"The war has taken a great deal from you," she vaguely deduced causing Claire to laugh.

"The war's taken a lot from everyone."

She scoffed and then started walking away.

"Skepticism is an unflattering quality on a lady," the psychic yelled after her.

"Yeah, so's being a fraud," Claire loudly replied.

New Orleans hadn't changed at all. But she had.

Claire walked all the way to her old apartment building. As it turned out, her apartment had indeed been rented out. Most of Claire's belongings were being kept in storage with those of the other women. She wasn't the only girl in her building who joined the Army Nurse Corps. They truly had no shame in renting out their apartments right away. Claire collected her box of things, a box filled with her pictures, jewelry, James' flag, and the few dresses she owned and left. She had no idea where she was going to store it until her time in the army was over. Though with so few possessions, she wondered if she would have to.

She checked into a nearby hotel for the night. When the war was over, she would have no home to go back to. It was disheartening but she should've expected it. Tomorrow, she would leave New Orleans and she wasn't sure where she would go next. Bill had suggested last week that she head to Miami beach. Joe, of course, agreed with him.

" _Too pale, Russ, get some sun,"_ Joe told her.

She considered going. Maybe the beach would do her some good, the warm sand between her toes, the waves hitting the shores. Last time she was on a beach had been in Brighton with Malarkey, Buck, and Skip. It felt like an eternity ago.

Claire huffed and laid down on her bed, her uniform half taken off. She wished Eugene was here. She wished this war could be over and they would be able to start… start what exactly? She'd told him she loved him. She had yet to receive his response, though she knew that mail would take some time. What would happen when he gets back? What were they supposed to do? Claire always had a vision for her life, but that got all screwed up the day Pearl Harbor was bombed. Now, she wasn't sure what to do, and that terrified her. She hated leaving life to chance. She didn't know her next move. Hell, she didn't even know what she was going to do tomorrow.

Maybe Manhattan, actually see the Statue of Liberty? She could go see a show. Oklahoma was still on Broadway. Maybe spot Frank Sinatra at a bar. She could go to the city that never sleeps and try to do the one thing she hadn't allowed herself to do since coming back, have fun. Do anything, really. Wasn't that the whole point of this stupid leave?

She would go to Manhattan, it was decided. But before, she had one more stop to make.

* * *

 _Breaux Bridge, Louisiana – August 6_ _th_ _1945_

Claire made one more stop before she would take the train back to New York. She decided to spend the remainder of her leave in Manhattan.

Her hometown hadn't changed in the least since she'd left six years ago. She wasn't going to spend the night here. She never did anymore. In fact, she was going to catch the last train from Lafayette back. She wasn't intending to come here, but she felt like she needed to. Claire stopped at the local flower shop. Mme. Lemay still ran the shop. She stood behind the counter.

"Is that Claire Rousseau I see?" She asked in disbelief.

"Yes it is," she replied. "Hello, Madame Lemay."

"My goodness, look at how you've grown!" Mme. Lemay admired. "You look so much like your mother. How mature you look in that uniform."

"Thank you," she said.

"I haven't seen you in years," Mme. Lemay pointed out.

Not since her son broke her heart.

"Can I get three roses?"

"Yes, yes, of course…" she said and left the counter to get the roses from a vase. "So, where have you been? Last I heard you were a nurse in New Orleans. Did you join the Women's Army Auxiliary Corps?" Claire forgot how nosy everyone in this town was.

"No. I'm working at a military hospital in Long Island," she explained. "I'm just here for a couple of hours before I head back. My leave is ending soon."

"An army nurse?" Mme. Lemay asked impressed. "How proud your parents would be. I know how proud I am of my Phillip."

Phillip, her former boyfriend. He'd been in the war too. Of course he had.

"He was with the tank battalion… wounded in Germany," she explained. "He should be released from the hospital soon."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Claire replied sincerely. "I know things didn't end well between Phillip and I, but he's a decent man."

"Phillip had a lot of growing up to do when you were together. After you left for school, he turned over a new leaf. He's married now to Mae White," she explained. Claire remembered Mae. She was sweet. Not the kind of person she expected Phillip Lemay to end up with. "After James… most of our boys didn't wait to be drafted, they enlisted. Phillip didn't wait. He admired your brother greatly."

Claire almost laughed. Phillip and James never got along, especially towards the end of their relationship. She had a distinct memory of James fighting Phillip after Claire found out he'd been cheating on her.

"Your brother… he was well loved here."

She already knew that. Claire swallowed the lump in her throat.

"How much?" She asked in a tight voice.

"Oh no… What you nurses do can never be repaid, this is the least I can do."

"Thank you, Madame Lemay," she said. "Would you give Phillip my best?"

"Of course, sweetheart. Don't be a stranger. Come back any time. I know everyone'd love to see you."

Claire nodded, took the roses and then walked out of the shop. She walked the familiar path to the cemetery. Her family's graves were all next to each other. Her parents were buried together, of course, and James's cross was next to theirs. His body was still trapped in the USS Arizona. She tried not to think about that.

She lay two roses in front of her parents graves. She stood at the front of James's cross. Someone had clearly been taking care of it. She lay the rose down on the grass in front of the cross and wiped the tears from her eyes.

"I know it's been a while since I've been here," she spoke. "I've been… away. I'm still away… technically."

This was stupid.

"I don't know if you can hear me… I'm not sure I have it in me enough to believe in Heaven or God now, but if you are there, if you are watching over me, I hope that what I've done has made you all proud," she spoke to the stone. "I miss you every day."

She hadn't intended to stay any longer. She simply wanted to lay the roses down and leave. She had to catch her train.

"Claire?" The same voice she'd heard in Mourmelon almost a year ago.

She looked up at the sky.

"Really?" She asked James. "Why is it that you keep popping up?"

She turned around to see Henry standing there in brown slacks and a white button down. He walked with a cane.

"I live here," he responded.

"What happened to you?" She asked.

"Artillery shell hit a bit too close, sent me flying back and smashed through a window," he explained. "I've only been home a few weeks."

"I'm glad you're okay," she told him.

"I come by every day," he said. "I make sure his stone is clean… I know last time you saw me didn't end well. I get it, I caught you off guard. I just... I'm sorry Claire. I'm sorry about what happened."

She took a deep breath. "Eugene told me what you did."

Henry tensed up.

"Why did you do it?" She asked.

"For you," he replied.

Claire scoffed.

"You didn't do it for me," she told him harshly. "You did it for you. Do you have any idea what that was like? I'd made my peace with James's death! I was getting over it. But then I found out that what I thought happened was a lie. It was like losing him all over again."

"You're right," he told her. "I was selfish. I understand if you hate me."

Claire pursed her lips. After the camp she didn't hate anyone anymore. She could see the wait he carried on his shoulders. Claire knew how she could give him some solace; the same way Mrs. Melville did.

"I forgive you," she said, "for what happened that day."

A smile spread across Henry's face.

"How long are you in town for? I know ma would love to see you. Could you stay…"

She had to cut him off.

"Henry, I can't see you anymore," she admitted.

"B-But… you said…"

"I know, and I do forgive you… but… I can't look at you and not see him. And it's a constant reminder that you're here and he isn't."

She felt the traitorous tears rolling down her cheeks.

"I'm glad that you made it through the war. I am… but I can't keep being reminded. I'm sorry, Henry. I wish you a long life full of joy," she told him. "Goodbye."

She walked passed him. Maybe it was cruel what she did, but it was what she needed to do. She was no Mrs. Melville. She forgave, but she couldn't forget. Not as long as he was in her life.

"Claire, wait," he pleaded. "Please… don't do this."

"I have to catch my train."

"What am I supposed to do?" He asked.

"Do what he would want you to do, Henry. Live your life because he doesn't get to," Claire told him before finally walking away.

* * *

 _St. Alban's Hospital, Long Island New York - August 10_ _th_ _1945_

Claire walked from her room to her office. It was her first day back from her leave. Her trip to Manhattan had been nice. She ended up going to see _Oklahoma._ But her nights alone in her motel room reminded her that she really didn't like going on leave by herself anymore.

The air was buzzing about the bombs that had obliterated two Japanese cities. One dropped on the 6th and the other dropped yesterday. No one had ever seen anything like it before. _Two whole cities of people_. Hadn't there been enough innocent dead? She thought about all the civilian casualties of war. She never ceased to be amazed at the lengths humans will go to destroy each other.

Claire found Dorothy in her office.

"Surrendering to the paperwork yet?" Claire asked when she stepped in the room. "How did this week go?"

"Fine. Ingrid got Corporal Stephens up and moving," she informed. "But besides that, nothing."

"Thank you for handling everything, Dorothy."

"No big deal," Dorothy told her. "Doing your job, I think I get why you separate Church and State as you said."

"Oh?" Claire asked.

"Uh-huh, I don't know everything… but I do know most of us have been together here for years. We're family," she explained. "It's hard coming into that, so I understand."

It wasn't exactly her reasoning, but Claire most definitely appreciated it.

"I think if you'd let your guard down, you'd like us. I think we could be friends," Dorothy continued.

"I should get to work," Claire told her.

"Oh, I left your mail in the top desk drawer," Dorothy informed her.

She got mail?

Dorothy left the room and Claire reclaimed her desk. She opened the drawer and saw there was a letter inside. She held it in her hand, and considered opening it right then and there but she looked at the time and decided to do it later.

Being back around the patients put her at ease. Claire was a nurse through and through. That much she knew.

She finally ended up in Leckie's ward. She spotted him sitting in the wheelchair while talking to Corporal Coppola in the bed next to him. He smiled at her.

"You're back," he said.

"So it seems," she replied. "Hope you didn't miss me too much while I was gone."

"Nurse Haskill isn't as good a conversationalist as you are. How was it?"

Claire thought about it for a moment. "Enlightening."

"Not going to elaborate?" He asked.

"I just came by to check in. I have a lovely stack of paperwork waiting for me in my office. We'll pick it back up tomorrow," she added. He didn't press her for more information.

"Welcome back Nurse Rousseau."

She spent the rest of her afternoon buried in paperwork. When she craved a mental break, Claire pulled the letter out of her pocket. She opened it and read every word. It was from Eugene. Even if he hadn't signed his name at the bottom she would've known.

He spent the first half updating her on what was happening with her boys, which she was grateful for as she hadn't heard from them in a while. Apparently, Malarkey was transferred to Paris to be a consultant for an air exhibition, and Lip was transferred to Battalion HQ.

Then, she saw it. Those three words written towards the bottom of the page. She smiled at them, her fears and doubts in her mind about him were gone the moment she read the words _'I love you.'_

She hated not being there with him. He was stuck, constantly waiting for a jump that may or may not happen. It was an endless purgatory and she wished she could be there with him. Or better yet, she wished he was back here with her. He wanted to get married, he'd said so in the letter. When he was back and when they were both released from the army, they would start a life together.

 _What if he doesn't make it back?_

She couldn't think like that. He would come back. He promised her.

For the first time in a long time, Claire felt completely and utterly helpless. It was like being in that hospital in England. She was completely useless to help them. She wanted Eugene back here where it's safe. Or she wanted to be in the danger with him so she could keep him safe.

Claire tucked the letter back in her pocket and started to work again. He would make it back. She had to keep telling herself that.

"Look at you go," Claire complimented as Leckie walked with cane for the first time. "You'll be out of here in no time."

"Can we take a break?" Leckie asked. She was pushing him more now because she knew he could handle it.

Claire helped Leckie over to a nearby bench. He was cringing in pain.

"I can get a chair and we can wheel you back," she offered.

"No, it's okay. Can we just… sit for a while?" He requested.

"Of course," she agreed.

"What was it like jumping out of the plane?" He asked.

Claire stiffened.

"C'mon, I told you everything about what happened to me… you gotta give me something," he pleaded.

"You haven't told me everything," she retorted. He still hadn't told her about Pelelieu.

Leckie stayed quiet for a while. Claire was about to call it a day when Leckie finally opened his mouth.

"It was hot… one-hundred-fifteen degrees hot. We didn't have any water. Chuckler was missing and Hoosier got hit…" he started in a quiet voice.

Claire listened intently as he told the story of that day. She thought knowing what happened would make it easier somehow, but it didn't. Hearing every grim detail made it all the more real that this woman she'd gotten to know, not only through letters but through Leckie's stories, was gone.

By the end, she could see the tears in his eyes. They stayed quiet for a long time before Claire finally said something.

"Have you ever been on a really big roller coaster?" Claire asked. Leckie looked at her curiously. She had to give him something. "That moment when you go over the big dip and drop… all of a sudden it sort of feels like you're flying? That's kind of what it's like to jump out of a plane. For a few seconds, you're freefalling, and it's the most terrifying but incredible feeling in the world. When I'd drop, it felt like I was free."

Leckie urged her to continue.

She thought about that paper on the Colonel's desk… but Leckie already knew who she was. Surely, he was an exception.

"At least, that's how it felt in training, or when no one was shooting at you," she continued. "Dropping into Normandy, not so much. It was our 'baptism into battle'. I remember the plane ride there. For two hours, all you could hear were the engines, and then, it was like the sky was exploding. It was like everything was on fire... I was last out, guy in my stick got hit, he lived. But we were going too fast. I had this huge bag tied to my leg full of supplies and the shock of the fall ripped it right off.

"Around me, guys were getting shot and killed still in the air. I couldn't do anything but pray that I would make it to the ground. I landed in a river. I can still taste the water. I cut myself out, lost most of my supplies, and swam to safety. Well, as safe as you can be in occupied France."

Normandy was Hell. She hadn't even gotten to Carentan or the man she killed. Nor had she talked about Holland or Belgium or Germany. How would she ever bring herself to talk about Bastogne or Lansberg?

"The drop into Holland was a lot better… but that's for another day," she told him. "I have to get to work. I do have other patients." In fact, she had an entire list of patients that needed a little pushing. She wanted to interact more with the patients. She had Dorothy make her a list while she was on leave. "Think you can move?"

"Mhm," he replied.

She helped him up and they slowly walked back to his ward.

"It's good that you're getting out of that office," he told her. "You look happier when you're in the wards. Even if you try to look like you're not."

"Has it ever occurred to you that maybe I'm not hiding anything?" She suggested. She'd been at a loss since arriving here. She couldn't find the love for her job she had before.

"Pfft," he scoffed. "I see it in your eyes, Nurse Rousseau, you live for this shit. That's where you and Elle differ. She didn't want to be a nurse, she ended up there. You, it's who you are, and you're great at it."

She smiled at him.

"Thank you, for telling me about Pelelieu," she told him. "And… I'm sorry that you lost her."

"Thank you for telling me about Normandy… to be honest, I didn't give a shit about the war in Europe."

"To be honest, I didn't really give a shit about the Pacific. All that mattered to me was keeping my boys safe and alive," she countered. "We all had our own wars to fight."

"Still fighting," he corrected.

"Still fighting," she agreed.

* * *

 **I hope you liked this chapter! Just so you know, the form Claire had to sign is something I got from an actual historical thing. When the attack on Pearl Harbor happened, at the same time the Japanese attacked other US army bases in Guam, Wake, Midway and The Philippine Islands. In the Phillippine's over 60 nurses were taken as POWs for three years. They endured starvation, and terrible brutality from the Japanese. However, every single one of them made it out alive. But, upon their return home, they had to sign confidentiality forms which meant they were not allowed to talk about what happened to them because they would lose army benefits.**

 **These women were heroes and we cannot let their story be forgotten.**

 **Also, the title of this chapter is reference to a song called When We Were Soldiers. It's been covered by a number of people. I have the Trocadero version. It's beautiful and haunting.**

 **Thank you to all those who reviewed. Let me know what you thought of the chapter.**


	30. The World Will Sing Again

_Water rushed over her head as she frantically cut at the straps of her harness. When she was finally freed, Claire swam to the side and pulled herself out of the water… then she was running as German's yelled behind her. A shot ripped through the air._

" _They've got us zeroed!" Lip yelled as Claire tried to drag Quinn through the alley in Carentan._

" _RUSS!"_

 _Then she was blown back. Quinn's blood stained her pants. His intestines were blown across the cobblestone road._

" _M-m-m…" Thomas Walton sputtered as he died just outside Carentan._

Why me? _The woman in the pink dress asked as the villagers cut her hair._

 _As bullets ripped past her, she crawled on the ground, her leg radiating in pain._

Get up! _She screamed at herself as she tried desperately to get away._

" _I hope when you die, it's quick," James MacArthur told her a Lucky Strike hanging out of his mouth._

" _Just leave me alone, Henry," she begged her brother's former best friend. He looked back at her, and she wanted nothing more than to make him vanish._

" _A life in pain is not worth living at all."_

" _No one's gonna mourn me," she told Eugene on that day in the church in Bastogne._

" _RU-" And then… nothing._

" _I don't wanna die!" Jackson cried out as he lay choking on his own blood._

 _Dozens of walking skeletons staring at her._

 _Dead._

 _Alive._

 _Dead._

 _Dead._

 _Alive._

" _They're Jews, Poles, Gypsies…"_

 _Why? Why? Why?_

Claire woke up to someone shaking her shoulders. She lashed out and started trying to push them off.

"Nurse Rousseau!"

Claire snapped out of it to see that it was Dorothy.

"McCain?"

"I was walking by and I heard you crying," she explained.

Claire was crying, the scenes replaying over in her head.

"What happened to you?" Dorothy asked.

She brought her knees up to her chest and cried harder. She felt a pair of arms wrap around her. Claire cried until she felt like she couldn't anymore. Then, before she could stop herself, she told Dorothy everything. Piece of paper be damned.

* * *

 _August 15_ _th_ _1945_

It started off as any normal day. Claire was sitting at her desk working on some paperwork. She'd come up with a new system over the last few days and it was allowing for her to spend more time working with patients and less on paperwork. She was finally getting a hang of it.

Dorothy broke into her office. A large smile lit up her face.

"The Japs surrendered! It's over!" She yelled excitedly. Claire's pen dropped.

Several emotions crossed Claire Rousseau's face that moment: disbelief, understanding, grief, sadness, joy… but most importantly _relief._

Her jaw dropped.

Was this a dream?

"It's over?" She asked in a low voice.

"The war's over," Dorothy assured.

Claire got up from her desk, walked over to Dorothy and hugged her.

She hadn't realized she was crying until Dorothy was was rubbing circles on her back. She knew about Claire's war.

All the Hell they went through for the better part of a decade was over. After everything… it was done.

Her shoulders were shaking as the happy sobs ripped from her chest.

 _It's over. It's really over._

After the war in Europe ended, there was still the relief but the looming sense of impending doom sat on them. Now, it was done. August 15th 1945, World War II ended. This war, that brought death, horror, and destruction, was done.

 _My boys are coming home. Eugene is coming home._

The war was over. It was finally over.

* * *

 _October 1945_

"Your weekend off from the hospital and you come to another hospital?" Bill questioned as Claire sat across from him and shrugged.

"It's either visit you or stay in some motel in Long Island," she explained. "This seemed like the less disease ridden option."

"Still, I worry about you, Russ. Why don't you go out, live a little? Dance the jitterbug."

Claire scoffed. "In all the years you've known me, Bill, when have I danced the jitterbug?"

She danced, but nothing like that.

"You think I haven't heard about you in Brighton?" He asked.

Claire smiled remembering dancing at the bar. "That was different."

"Promise you'll save me a dance at you wedding."

"I'll even do the Lindy Hop."

"You heard from Doc?" Bill asked.

"Yeah, got a letter from him a week ago. He's still there," she huffed bitterly. "Lotta them are still stuck there. Waiting for their ticket back home. So I don't know when he's coming back. One of the girls has a brother who works with all the scheduling… I asked her to ask him to keep tabs on Eugene and the rest of our guys."

"He'll be back soon. Who knows, maybe you'll be out of the army before he is," Bill offered somewhat helpfully.

"What are you gonna do when you get out of this place?" She asked shifting the focus away from her. "Should I count a plus one for you?"

"Her dad ain't too keen because of well, this," he pointed down to the new prosthetic leg. "Doesn't think I'll be able to get a job."

Claire shook her head in disbelief. "He clearly doesn't how stubborn you are. Toughest man I know. Damn what her father says. The two of you wanna be together, it shouldn't matter."

Bill smiled at her. "Put me down for two."

Claire beamed. Her boys deserved their happy endings.

There was a knock at the door. Claire turned around to see none other than Donald Malarkey standing there in his Class A uniform.

"Malarkey?"

"Well, I'll be damned, here I was thinking I'd just get to see Joe and Gonorrhea but I get our lovely nurse too."

Claire got up from her seat at the table and shook Malarkey's hand.

"I thought you were in Paris," she said in surprise.

"Just got back. Actually on my way home. Uncle Sam let me go."

"Hey, congratulations, Malark! That's great," Bill told him.

"Thanks. Thought I'd stop by on my way back to Oregon. Catching the train tomorrow morning out of Manhattan," he explained.

"Well, don't just stand there, grab a seat," Claire stated. "I think Joe's still doing physical therapy."

"Yeah, I just saw him. He's looking swell, just like you are," Malarkey stated.

The three of them sat for a long time. They played cards. Talked a bit, but no one wanted to talk about what they went through. Without the uniforms, aside from Claire's scars and Bill's leg, they would look like any regular person on the street. But they were veterans, although Claire would be denied full benefits later on since they didn't consider her to be a 'real' veteran. That's something she would find out much later, not until after she was released from her duties.

Eventually, Claire and Malarkey were told that visiting hours were over. They took Bill back to his room and then left the hospital together.

They found themselves at a bar on the boardwalk not far from the hospital. It was mostly GI's in the bar, somewhere Claire actually felt somewhat comfortable. She wasn't as invisible now as she had been before. She endured the familiar catcalling she'd grown immune to. Malarkey got the drinks for free.

"Everyone is so damn charitable," he said as he sat down at the table across from her. He passed her the beer.

"What'd the bartender say?" She asked.

"Same thing they all do. Ask where I served. Thanked me and gave me free booze," he explained.

"I was at a car dealership a few weeks ago, taking a look at this nice Ford that I can't afford when all the sudden one of the cars backs up and next thing I know, I dive to the ground, cover my head. I look over at the dealer after and he's picking himself up off the ground too. 'Where'd you serve?' he asked," Claire recounted. She took another drink from her beer. "So, what's a free man like you gonna do now?"

They all had to figure it out sometime.

"I dunno," he answered honestly. "Probably gonna go finish school. I think that's what I'm supposed to do."

She saw there were a couple of girls looking over at Malarkey.

"I think those girls over there are checking you out," she told him. Malarkey looked behind him. "I could go over there, talk to 'em for you. Just like old times."

She remembered the bar back in Brighton.

"Nah," he said when he turned back towards her.

That wasn't like him.

"You back with that girl from home?" Claire asked.

"Bernice?" Malarkey questioned. "Honestly, I dunno. She's in New York City, taking a crack at becoming a singer."

"D'you love her?" Claire asked.

Malarkey shrugged. "I'm supposed to, ain't I? After all the shit I put her through…"

"Then maybe that's your answer," she shrugged.

"What about you and Doc?" Malarkey asked.

"Jesus, did everyone know?" She asked.

"Russ, we shared foxholes for months, of course we picked up on it. When'd it happen?"

Claire smiled remembering the street in Austria, right after her very last surgery in the army.

"A lady doesn't kiss and tell," she replied.

"Yeah, but I'm talking to you," he joked.

"Well, now that we're back, I'm a regular proper lady," she said mockingly.

They both drank again.

"Someone told me it was cold outside the other day," Malarkey told her. "Nearly punched him in the jaw."

"Back in Bastogne, when I was at the aid station, we got 'White Christmas' over the radio and I've never wanted to smash something so hard in my life," she explained.

Malarkey and Claire laughed.

Then he got quiet. She could see the look in his eyes. He was going back to that day.

 _RU-… then nothing._

Claire took another drink.

"I think about him every day," she told him.

"Yeah, so do I," he said as he lifted the glass to his lips and took a long chug.

Claire thought about Skip a lot.

"Not long before… Skip and I talked. I'm gonna tell you what he said to me because I didn't get it but now… I do… God's got something planned for you, Malarkey. Something good," she told him.

Malarkey gave her a small smile. "Thanks."

"I mean it, Malark. Might not happen right away, but there has to be something better," she affirmed.

A few hours later, Claire walked a drunken Malarkey to a cab.

"The Mariner Motel please," she told the cab driver.

She climbed in next to him. She wasn't about to let him go off by himself. She hadn't had nearly as much to drink as he did. The cab driver glanced at her oddly. Even in the dark, she saw his eyes in the rearview mirror dart to her left hand, as though to check for a ring. It was 'unladylike' for an unmarried woman to get in a cab with a man.

Claire rolled her eyes. Malarkey was rolling down the window and sticking his head out. He flopped back in the seat and laughed. For a moment, she swore she saw that same naïve boy who ran in the middle of a fire fight to get a Luger.

Despite the city surrounding them, Claire was pulled back to a moment like this one in England. It had been in a pub in London. Claire was on leave at the same time as Luz and Skip. Luz, of course, got piss drunk and started singing at the top of his lungs.

" _OOOOOKLAHOMA where the winds come sweeping down the plain…"_

Of course, both she and Skip were almost as drunk and they began singing along. Soon, the entire pub, which was mostly full of American GIs began singing along. It was before Holland. A night that was care free. The war was happening so far away and it almost felt normal. Now, it was normal.

The war was over, but none of it felt over.

"Here we are," the cab driver said as they pulled up to Malarkey's motel.

Claire paid the driver and helped an inebriated Malarkey out.

"Come on, let's get you to bed," she told him.

"How are you not drunk?" He asked, well slurred.

"Because you drank most of my drinks," she replied.

She half dragged him to his door.

"Where's your room key?"

Malarkey had let go of her and was now sinking to the ground. He sat up against the wall.

"How do you do it?"

Claire slid to the floor next to him.

"Do what?"

"After all the shit we've seen, how're you keeping it together? 'Cause I feel like I'm falling apart. They keep saying everything will be just like it was before. But it's not… is it?"

"Believe me Malark, I've been falling apart," she said. "Things are never going to be the same… But the war is done, and the world will start to move on. And I think I'm ready to move with it. Are you?"

But he didn't hear her because he'd passed out drunk.

Maybe she was ready to move, but she could never forget. It would be an insult to Melville, Skip, Penkala, Eleanor, Florence… all the men and women who died during that hellish war. But she remembered a line from a song she'd heard on the radio: _'The world will sing again.'_

The war was done.

The world would sing again.

* * *

 _Brooklyn Naval Shipyard – 3 weeks later_

Claire's heart pounded in her chest as she made her way to the familiar shipyard. She was in her Class A. She saw there were tables with Red Cross girls. Large crowds of happy families reuniting. She pushed through the crowds.

From the moment Hattie Levinson gave her the news from her brother three days ago, Claire hadn't been able to stop smiling. Finally, Eugene was coming back.

Leckie was discharged a week ago. Claire saw him off. He could walk almost normally now. She was sad to see him go, he'd become a good friend of hers. He promised her that he would write. She wondered if one day she would meet more of Eleanor's friends.

" _Good luck to you, Captain Rousseau."_

" _And to you, Private Leckie. I get the feeling there'll be great things coming from you."_

When she got back, Leckie was one of the few people she could talk to about what she'd seen. By the time he left, she'd told him everything. For that, she was forever grateful.

She couldn't see a damn thing. There were too many people. She had to see above them. Claire looked up and saw a lamp post. She pushed her way over to it and climbed up. She still couldn't really see but at least she had somewhat of a better view.

Had Hattie's brother gotten the day wrong?

She scanned the crowd.

Then, she saw him.

Claire jumped off the lamp post and began pushing her way through the crowd.

"Eugene!" She yelled. "Eugene!"

"Claire!" She heard someone call out her name.

She pushed through another group of people when she was finally standing in front of him, face to face. Claire wrapped her arms around him. He was there, he was real. Then he kissed her. After months of writing, wishing, praying, he was there.

"Claire," he said her name when they broke apart. He was there.

"'Bout damn time!"

Claire and Eugene broke apart to see Luz, Bull, Christenson, Babe, Perconte, and most of Easy Company hooting and hollering at them. Her boys were back.

"Hey Russ, first rounds on you right?" Luz asked.

"Yeah, I know a place," she replied with the brightest smile on her face. Her friends… Her family, they were here.

She looked back at Eugene. He was here. They were together, as it should rightfully be.

"You okay?" She asked.

"Yeah," he answered. "Are you?"

Claire's smile widened on her lips. She had him.

"I'm okay."

And she meant it.

* * *

 **So, there is the last official chapter before I post the epilogue. I just wanted to thank everyone who read, reviewed, followed, favourited this story.**

 **I've said this so many times before, but Claire is such an important character to me. Claire is based off a few people I know in my life and have read about but she's mainly based off my Grandmother. My Ema was the most incredible person I ever knew. She was a nurse (unlike Claire, she was not an Army nurse since she was in her teens when WW2 happened) who always fought for what she believed in. My dad used to tell me stories about how she helped at risk youth in their community. She helped found a Hospice. I based much of Claire's career on my Grandmother's.**

 **On another note, I'm still working on Eleanor's story. It will be called 'Why We Fight' and will be published in The Pacific section and not the Band of Brothers section. I'm hoping to have at least the first hundred or so pages done by the new year. Those updates might be a bit more sporadic because I haven't written them in advance like I did this story.**

 **Please, let me know what you thought of the chapter. I will be posting the Epilogue on Saturday.**


	31. Epilogue: Till We Meet Again

_50 years later…_

 _Baton Rouge, Louisiana – August 1997_

It somehow feels wrong for it to be warm and sunny today, even though Eugene knows she would love it. It's hot too. The air in the church was stuffy, making it hard for him to breathe. It doesn't help that he's wearing a black suit. He stands at the very front, an endless line of people in front of him, all waiting for their turn to shake his hand and offer their condolences for his loss.

It isn't just the heat from outside or that of the crowded building. His eyes drift to the large screen showing a slideshow of pictures and memories of her life. The projector was radiating heat but he didn't want to turn it off. Their kids worked too hard on it.

There weren't many pictures of his wife left from when she was a child. Most of them had burnt in the fire that killed her father back in 1938. Still, there were a few. Eugene watched as a picture he recognized of Claire, James, and their father in front of their boat. She'd carried it all through the war, even the copy of it had been warped. Funny enough, he never saw the picture until long after the war when they moved from Morganville to Baton Rouge and he unpacked it from a box.

A picture from Toccoa comes up. It's of Claire, Lewis Nixon, and Dick Winters. She was smiling happily at the camera while all three of them were in their PT gear. It was before she'd cut her hair.

Another comes up of her with Eugene, Bill Guarnere, Don Malarkey, Skip Muck, and George Luz proudly showing off their jump wings.

Another of a weekend pass she, Buck Compton, Malarkey, and Skip took. This picture was of them at a bar and Claire was dancing. A very rare sight.

Another of VE Day of him, Claire, and most of the original Toccoa men celebrating the victory.

There aren't many pictures of the war. They didn't want to relive those memories but Eloise, their youngest, insisted on putting in a couple. He never could refuse her.

 _She's got you wrapped around her finger,_ Claire used to tease.

He smiles at the picture of their wedding in 1947. It was of them with the wedding party, Dorothy McCain was Claire's Maid of Honor while Eugene's brother served as his Best Man. Originally, she was going to wear his mother's dress, that is until Dick Winters sent them a reserve chute. He'd been the last of them to get back, a few weeks before their wedding. It was his gift to her. Claire had a dress made out of the chute, much like Harry Welsh's wife, Kitty, did. It felt right, her getting married in a dress made from a parachute.

A picture from their trip to Hawaii back in 1953 came on. He took her and they spent a very long time at Pearl Harbor. She'd cried and laughed as she recounted stories from her childhood with her brother. This picture was taken on the beach. Claire wore her blue spotted bathing suit with sunglasses. Neither of them were looking at the camera, always at each other. Their two first kids had remained behind with his mother.

"Dad?" Their eldest son, James Warren, draws his attention. He hadn't realized he drifted so far away. "Can I get you anything?"

Eugene shakes his head and turns back to the crowd.

"I'm sorry… Mrs. Roe was…" A stranger tries to say before she starts crying.

Eugene says nothing as the girl was led away.

He has no idea who most of them are, but somehow Claire had touched their lives. She wanted to help people, it was one of the many things Eugene always admired about her. Every day, he would find new ways to be amazed by her.

After the war, Claire had been lost in what to do. She remained at home taking care of the kids after they were born. But, after Eloise started school, Claire needed to do something to pass the time. She used to say that she 'started getting the thirst for her job' back. She began working as a nurse once more in 1957. It was like she found her purpose again. In 1967, Claire, Dorothy, and Hattie Levinson opened St. Michael's Physical Rehabilitation Center in Baton Rouge. After the war was done, the three remained in close contact. Now the hospital is still open. Hattie, sadly, passed away two years ago. Dorothy is still here. He can see her sitting in one of the pews next to her husband.

He recognized most of the faces. The remaining men of Easy Company were there. He saw George Luz with his wife sitting in one of the pews. Luz has a somber expression on his face. After the war, Claire and Luz remained the best of friends. They called each other once a week. He's godfather to their other son, Michael. Lewis Nixon was James's godfather.

Every year, they both attended Easy Company reunions. Over the years, the group got smaller. A year and a half ago, Lewis Nixon died. When he told Claire, it was during a rare moment of clarity. She had so few of those towards the end.

Even after the war, Claire looked after 'her boys' as she called them. She tried to remain in contact with them. She wasn't always successful. When they finally tracked Talbert down, Claire took him to the store to buy clothes before the reunion. He died shortly after that.

Out of the corner of his eye, Eugene sees Alice. It took years before Alice and Claire got in contact again. Alice had become a writer, just as she'd always wanted. She worked as a journalist before writing her war memoirs. She published a few novels after that. One told a very lose version of Claire's wartime story.

Claire didn't want people to know she served at the front as a paratrooper. It wasn't because the army made her sign a paper, but because she thought if people knew, it might take away from what Easy Company did. She didn't want to be a 'feminist hero' as she put it because she never saw herself as anything but a regular GI. Of course, she was a hero. She was his hero.

He glances back at the projector. Photos of his family were appearing. There was Claire, Eugene, and their three children: James, Michael, and Eloise on vacation to Miami Beach when their daughter was only two. He can still feel the sand between his toes, hear the waves crashing on the ocean.

He still finds himself caught off guard that his children are now grown, married, and have children of their own. They have six grand-children. He sees them all standing in a line. The first, James' eldest daughter Lucy was finishing up her nursing program this year. Her sister Rachel works as a journalist in New York City. Tom is going into his second year at University for Civil Engineering. Celine, Isabelle, and Joseph are still in high school. His children all grew up safe and loved. Whatever they did, they succeeded. He is proud of them, just as he knew Claire was too.

Eugene did end up going into construction. He worked there forty years before they both retired. They spent the last ten years travelling and spending time with their family. They went back to Europe and visited the places they fought. He hadn't been sure at first if it would've been a good idea, but Claire convinced him. She never wanted to forget.

There were days when it was harder than others. Over time the nightmares dwindled but to this day he still gets them on occasion. December and January are the worst. Neither of them liked those months.

More people, more hands to shake… the pews are filling up. So many faces. More pictures on the screen, it's seeing his life on full display.

Finally, the line ended. At the front, Eugene remained with only Eloise.

"Dad?" She asks.

"I need to see my wife," he finally speaks.

Eloise, bless her heart, nods and then leads him up to the casket. The ceremony is going to start soon, but he needs to see her.

The mahogany casket lay half open, Claire lay still inside. She was in her old Class A uniform, the Army Nurse Corps pin was on the right side of her collar and her Captain bars were on the left. The Screaming Eagle insignia was proudly displayed on her sleeve. Two medals, a Purple Heart and a Silver Star were pinned to the uniform. Their family had no idea about the medals. She never believed she deserved the recognition she got. It wasn't until a few days ago when Lucy and her sister Rachel were looking through Claire's things that they found the Silver Star.

" _Grandpa, was this yours?"_ Rachel asked.

He shook his head.

" _It was Grandma's?"_

He nodded. He then told the story about how their grandmother saved the lives of over forty soldiers during the bombing of Bastogne.

Jones, O'Connor, and Carson are here with their wives. He saw them before. Wilkes passed away ten years ago.

Claire's dark grey hair was perfectly coiffed, her eyes closed. Her old scars had faded over time, but Eugene knew exactly where to look to spot them. A tear slips. He doesn't see the wrinkled old woman. He sees her black hair, her blue eyes, a young youthful glow… She was always the beautiful, kind woman he met when he was twenty-one. In his eyes, she never aged a day. And every day, he fell more in love with her.

They spent fifty years together. Fifty years of joy, love, happiness, of good memories. They had three amazing children, who grew up to be everything he hoped, and six incredible grand-children.

Fifty years isn't enough.

He loved her. He will always love her until the day he dies, and even after.

 _I'll see you soon._

Without intending to, he drifts back to that church in Bastogne. He remembers what she told him. This church is packed full of people, there are some standing at the back. Claire did incredible things. She fought for what she believed in. She worked until her fingers bled building St. Michael's. She was fierce and determined. She loved her patients, her friends, her home, and her family.

She loved.

She lived.

And she was mourned.

* * *

 **I cannot thank you all enough for reading Claire's journey from beginning to the very end. I have never worked as hard on a story in my life. I hope you enjoyed the ride as much as I have. And I hope you will read Why We Fight when I publish it. I should be publishing the first chapter relatively soon.**

 **Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.**


	32. Why We Fight Has Been Published!

Why We Fight has been published!


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